Sky Marshals: Flight 1412
by sablecain
Summary: First story in the Federal Air Marshal FAM /au -Team 7 is tested in a crisis situation for the first time, will they be able to work together as an effective team?
1. Chapter 1

This is the first story in my FAM Au. I created this AU back in the summer of 2001. It was before 9-11 and before we knew as much as we do now about Federal Air Marshals—like the fact that there aren't 'teams' of marshals on flights but in my reality—sure there is! Remember- everything that happens in this is set in 2001- Before the airport security changes, etc.

Disclaimer: The characters of the Magnificent 7 belong to MGM, Trilogy and Mirisch. No profit is being made off this story.

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Sky Marshals: Flight 1412

Special Agent Chris Larabee tapped the confidentially marked file in front of him as he listened closely to his commanding officer summarize its contents.

"You're sure we're ready for this kind of threat?" He asked casually when Orrin Travis finished his run down.

Travis looked at him for a moment before answering. "Your team has been active now for three months. I'm getting good reports all around and your previous deployments have been successful."

Chris ran a hand through his short blond hair and shifted in his chair. "There's a big difference between dealing with a couple of irate passengers and a woman going into premature labor, and handling a threat against an international flight."

"True," Orrin agreed, "but your team has great statistics in training. Besides that, you're all we've got."

Chris looked startled, his green eyes widening. "What do you mean?"

"There are only three teams set up for larger flights; you know that. Team Five is out west investigating the flight 880 crash and Team Three is flying into Moscow."

Chris sighed and met Travis' gaze as the older man continued. "This one is yours. Most likely it'll end up being a long uneventful flight, but regardless, I have faith that you and your team can handle it." He glanced down at his watch as he waved Chris towards the door. "Flight leaves tomorrow a.m. and you have qualifying and briefing to get through. Go call in your team."

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"I'm telling you, Buck. She ain't going to fall for it." JD Dunne shook his head as he shoved a small handful of french fries into his mouth. He grabbed his drink and took a long sip to wash the fries down while he wiped a salty hand on his jeans. His dark hair fell forward with the action and automatically he reached up and pushed it out of his face again.

Across the vinyl-covered table from him, Buck Wilmington merely smiled and twitched his mustache mischievously. "Just watch and learn, Kid. Look at her smile. She can't resist the 'ole Wilmington charm." Buck winked at the lady in question who blushed and dipped her head to hide her laughter.

"She's laughing at you 'cause you're making a fool out a yourself." JD pointed out, tossing a fry at his roommate.

"Hey now." Buck laughed lightly and took a sip of his drink; wiping the offending fry off the front of his shirt. "You just sit back and watch the master, then we'll see who is laughing when I'm the one out on a date all night."

Before JD could respond, Buck's pager began to chirp, followed immediately by his own. Scowling, Buck ripped the device off his belt and checked the screen. The call back number didn't surprise him but the 911 tag did.

"Guess you're not going on that date after all," JD said, reading his own message.

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Vin Tanner spun out of the grip his opponent had wrenched him into and moved stealthily to counter the hold with one of his own.

Around the small run down gym several men had stopped to watch the fight with growing interest. Half-wrestling, half-boxing, it was hard to pin a label on the exercise between the tall African American who looked like he'd actually stepped out of the pro-wrestling ring, and the smaller long haired Caucasian moving with natural ability and grace.

"Hey, Tanner!"

Vin looked up, his blue eyes searching the crowd for the distracting voice. Sensing his opponent moving to take the advantage, he dropped to the mat and rolled, locking his ankles around the larger man's leg and bringing him down.

"What?" Vin panted as he struggled to his feet again.

A muscular redhead shook his head and grinned. "You're being paged," he called out, waving the small beeper above him before tossing it underhanded to Vin.

Vin caught the beeper with one hand and checked the number. "Gotta go, Jack," he said, turning to help his opponent up off the mat.

"Damn, Tanner," Jack groaned as he stretched. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

Vin grinned, his eyes flashing mysteriously as he climbed through the ropes. "Around."

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Nathan Jackson pulled into the parking lot of a small city mission and turned his car off. He sat for a few moments, unable to suppress a smile as he watched Josiah Sanchez attack a newly painted shutter with a hammer.

Lazily, Nathan pulled himself out of his vehicle and walked toward the larger man. "You ever going to get all the repairs finished on this place?" he asked moving in to hold the shutter in place.

Sanchez laughed deeply and shook his head. "I doubt it. I'm never here long enough to make any real progress. How are you doing today, Brother?"

"I'm fine," Nathan answered, handing a nail to him. Josiah nodded his thanks and, with Nathan stabilizing the shutter, was able to easily fix it in place.

"You enjoying your day off?" Josiah asked after he'd finished hammering. He wiped his forearm across his brow and glanced at his watch, debating whether or not he wanted to take a break.

Nathan opened his mouth to answer when his beeper went off. Josiah chuckled as his own pager sounded, realizing he was done here anyway.

"I was." Nathan smiled, checking the number. "I was."

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The crowd surrounding the small felt-lined table was rapidly increasing in size as tourists and regulars alike pressed in to catch a better glimpse of the two seemingly oblivious card players.

Caught in the center of the spectacle, Ezra Standish was far from unaware. His look of relaxed indifference distracted from the reality that he was paying attention to everything around him, most particularly the skinny blond man twitching nervously across from him.

Ezra casually reached up and ran a hand through his light brown hair, his green eyes never wavering from his opponent. He knew he was going to have to end the game soon. Ralph, the casino's owner, didn't mind him using the table on slower days, but cleaning out the man's customers was frowned upon.

Blue eyes flickered up to meet his and Ezra bit back a laugh at the panic he saw. 'Should let the poor kid off the hook,' he thought to himself, wondering simultaneously where the flash of conscience had come from. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ralph approaching, his face pinched in a scowl. Ezra caught the balding man's eye and inclined his head, discreetly signaling that he understood. Before he could formulate a believable excuse for pulling out of the game, however, his beeper went off. The skinny opponent jumped sharply and chuckled with embarrassment as Standish checked the number.

"Perfect," Ezra whispered, out loud he continued. "My apologies, good sir." He scooped up his winnings from the previous hands, leaving plenty of chips to appease both Ralph and the younger man. "I have regrettably, been summoned away," he drawled.

As he walked away, he couldn't help but smile at the crowd's groan of disappointment.

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"You're all set, Larabee." The dark haired agent handed Chris a file of evaluations. "They all passed above grade."

"You had any doubts?" Chris asked with a knowing grin.

"Not really."

"Thanks, Dave," Chris called as the agent walked away. Quickly Larabee flipped through the reports, pleased to see the team's fire arms proficiency tested well above normal.

Turning, he entered the briefing room and cleared his throat to get everyone's attention.

"What's up, Chris?" Buck asked first. "We actually have a real 911?"

With a nod, Chris began his report. "We've been assigned to flight 1412 non-stop from JFK to Cairo."

"Cairo, cool," JD commented.

"Was there a specific threat?" Josiah asked.

"Specific to the flight, yes, but not specific as to what the threat is. Teams are going over the plane with dogs tonight and tomorrow before take off. I've got your seat assignments here."

"What time?" Vin asked casting a grin at Standish.

"Flight leaves at 8:10 a.m., transports leave at 5:30."

Ezra groaned, ignoring Vin's soft laughter and a few other chuckles aimed in his direction. He hated mornings.

"That's 5:30 sharp, Ezra," Chris added.

"Understood, Mr. Larabee," Ezra acknowledged with a dramatic sigh.

"How fast can you pull up an intelligence report on Cairo?" Chris addressed Ezra again.

Standish flipped open his laptop and immediately started entering commands. "Cairo itself is politically stable at the moment, but since it borders our favorite hot spot, it leaves us with a plethora of possibilities."

"Religious threats?" Nathan asked.

"Country is 94 percent Muslim so that's a strong possibility," Josiah answered.

"There was no indication of who our perpetrators might be?" Ezra asked looking at Chris for an answer.

"Nope. It was an anonymous tip. Came in through the embassy via routine intelligence reports."

"Any other flights included in threat?" Vin asked, twirling a pen in the center of his file.

"Three others, but we're on the largest of the four."

"Goody for us." Buck said sarcastically.

"You think we're ready for this, Chris?" Nathan asked trying to hide his doubt over the mission. He knew that they were a fairly new group, still working out their differences and getting used to each other.

There was silence for a minute, save the gentle clicking of Ezra's fingers hitting the laptop's keys.

Chris glanced around the room, eyeing each member of his team. "We better be," he answered finally. "Now, Ezra, keep researching any intelligence angles you can find. Call the Egyptian embassy if you need to. Take note of anything that can be construed as a potential threat and work with Vin and Buck on countermeasures. Nathan," Chris turned to the medic. "I need you to make sure your supplies are in ready order and do what you can to brush up on Egyptian law in case we run into problems on the ground over there. Josiah will help you."

Josiah nodded, acknowledging the order.

"JD, run your usual checks on all our communication equipment. Make sure everything is running without problems."

"Right." JD jotted down a couple of checks he wanted to remember to run.

Chris paused and glanced to his right as something caught his attention by the doorway. He looked up and made eye contact with Orrin Travis. With a small nod from the older man, Larabee turned back to his men and continued the briefing.

Orrin Travis couldn't help but wonder as he continued past the glass door of the briefing room, towards his office. It seemed like only a man like Chris Larabee could take control and lead a group of agents like the men of Team Seven. Mentally, Travis ran through each agent's file, shaking his head at the odd assortment of personalities and pasts. Travis could only hope that sharp edges would smooth out and form a cohesive team, though wisdom told him the experience might not be a pleasant one. So far the group had worked well together, but he knew they had yet to be confronted by a major incident. The first real test always proved to be the litmus for the effectiveness of a FAM team in the field, and Travis found himself hoping that this group of strong-willed individuals would pass whatever tests the future had in store for them.

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Buck muttered softly under his breath as he shoved his carry-on into the tightly filled compartment above his seat. He scowled briefly and scanned the crowded cabin of the 747-438. "Figures it's overbooked," he muttered again as he took his seat to get out of the way of another harried looking passenger. He glanced at the person to his left and a slow smile transformed his face.

"Morning." He winked.

"Morning." The slim brunette smiled and rolled her eyes slightly at him before turning back to her brand new paperback.

Buck sighed and leaned back, ducking his head just in time to miss getting clobbered by a leather duffle bag.

"Sorry 'bout that." Buck recognized the soft drawl and glanced over his shoulder as Vin continued down the aisle.

"Sure you are," Buck mumbled, settling back in his seat and adjusting his legs.

"Happens all the time during boarding," the woman next to him commented with out looking up from her book.

Buck caught himself from saying something sarcastic and refocused on the woman again. Her heart shaped face was partially hidden behind her hair as she read.

"I'm Buck," he introduced, extending a hand in greeting.

"Korine." She looked up at him, her large brown eyes filled with hesitation, but she shook his hand in a firm grip anyway.

"Fly here often?" Buck wiggled an eyebrow as he asked, resulting in a soft cascade of giggles from Korine.

"I can't believe you just asked me that," she said, shaking her head slightly. "Nice to meet you, Buck."

Buck opened his mouth to say more and realized that Korine had already turned her attention to her book.

"Give it up, Buck," JD's voice tickled his ear and he had to resist the urge to adjust the miniscule flesh-toned device hidden in his ear. Unable to respond without looking like a lunatic, he simply tapped a finger nail casually across the top button of his shirt and smiled at the resulting hiss. "Owww, BUCK!"

"Kid must be sitting alone up there." Buck thought, he couldn't see the stairway from his seat, but knew that JD had been assigned a seat in the upper level business class section, where his laptop and various electronics wouldn't call as much attention. The location also allowed the Kid easier contact with the cockpit.

Buck glanced at his watch, noting it was getting closer to take-off. One of the most vulnerable times of the flight, equaled only by the dangers of landing. And the only time of the flight when the team was completely cut off from each other with no communication.

Buck shifted and looked around again, ignoring the impulse to pull out his laptop. They'd only make him put it away until they were in the air anyway. He adjusted his long legs and, making sure there was no one coming, stuck one foot out into the aisle. He was going to have to kill Ezra for this. That first class ticket was supposed to be his. One of these days he was going to figure out how Ezra always managed to goad him into a losing bet. And where the hell had Ezra picked up Swahili anyway? Was there a language that that man didn't speak?

A soft bell chimed and a flight attendant moved past, ducking slightly as a small monitor descended from the ceiling and came alive with the safety instructions for the flight. There was a soft deadening of sound as his earpiece switched off, and Buck felt a sudden heaviness, a momentary panic at being cut off from the others that dissipated as quickly as it had appeared.

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Ezra stretched easily in the soft leather seat and glanced quickly around the first class compartment. It was full like the rest of the plane and yet each passenger sat comfortably in his or her own seat, not at all crowded or smashed into a space half the size it should be. Ezra shook his head, overhearing the brief interaction between Buck and JD over his earpiece. Buck was bitter. "It's his own fault though," Ezra thought to himself. "He's the one that keeps taking the bait."

A flight attendant stopped next to his seat, and Ezra heard the passenger across the aisle from him order a drink. His breathing froze as he recognized the faint British accent, and he waited tensely for the attendant to move out of the way so he could confirm his fear. The passenger was a large man, built like a pro football linebacker. Ezra immediately recognized the dark brown hair and square, scarred jaw line. "Dear Lord," he muttered under his breath, just as his communications unit went silent, disorienting him almost as much as the man who was now looking at him and smirking.

"Been a long time, Standish." Brown eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him.

"Not long enough, Rogers." Ezra kept his voice calm and face stoic as the plane began to accelerate down the runway.

"See you must have found another line of work." Lance Rogers pointed out, waving a hand around to indicate the cabin. "Even flying first class now."

"I manage." Ezra bit back a stronger retort, thankful for the distraction of the plane's engines roaring as the plane began its ascension.

"I'm sure." Rogers' grinned knowingly and sat back in his seat, further ignoring Ezra.

Ezra turned to the window on his left and gazed out at the cloud filled sky, thankful this time that his communication with the team was still cut off. He wondered what powers that be had taken an extraordinary interest in making his life hell and what was so damned entertaining about trapping him on an eleven-hour flight across the aisle from someone like Rogers. He almost wished it wasn't too late to switch seats with Buck.

The plane began to level out over the clouds, and Ezra stared out at the surrounding whiteness seeing only the cascade of all too recent memories run through his mind. He closed his eyes, a vain effort to block them and wondered what his team's reaction would be to whatever trouble Rogers was bound to create.

His worry almost made him laugh out loud. It was ironic enough to find himself on a team at all but here he was part of FAM7. When he'd been forced out of the National Security Agency, he'd promised himself he would never depend on anyone else again. He'd depended on those around him in the Agency and all it had gained him was the label "spy" and a handful of unproven accusations about his loyalty to his country. The men he'd relied on to back him up stepped aside and let him take on the role of scapegoat. His transfer to the FAA was approved only after an anonymous threat had turned into a physical assault and it was obvious he couldn't stay with the Agency any longer.

Even the FAA had been tentative though. It was only Orrin Travis that had kept Ezra on and placed him in security as a special agent. Ezra still hadn't figured out why Travis was so interested in him; everywhere he went the question, "is he trust worthy?" seemed to resonate around him. Why would Travis want him, let alone ask him to volunteer for FAM?

Ezra sighed heavily and shifted as he heard his earpiece come back on. He noted absently that the pilot had turned off the seatbelt light as well. He heard JD answering questions and realized a fellow passenger must have been asking about the equipment. He smiled hearing JD give the response he and Josiah had come up with. Ezra knew he would be there for this new team of strangers that he was now forced to work with. He'd do his job to the best of his ability and back them when needed, but he wasn't about to rely on them. He'd made that mistake one too many times in his life and it was about time he learned from it.

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JD grinned as the flight attendant, Melanie, signaled him to go ahead with his set up. He bobbed his head in a nod and quickly fired up the system. He was thankful that even in a crowded plane, somehow he was left with an empty seat beside him. He easily hooked up the equipment and made sure he had a signal from everyone. Keying the commands into the computer he was somewhat startled when the passenger across the aisle leaned closer.

"That's a lot of equipment." The older man pointed out. His blue eyes filled with curiosity.

"Yeah," JD answered, trying to stay as vague as possible. He loved technology and part of him wanted to just jump into the explanations of what everything was and did, but he held back.

"What's it all for?" The man asked.

"What's it for?" JD repeated the question and frowned as he heard Vin's soft chuckle. "It's for tests actually." He quickly jumped into the cover story that Ezra and Josiah had helped him come up with. "I work for the FAA, testing different communication equipment to see how it works in flight."

The man's eyes widened with surprise and some worry. "Is that safe?" he asked.

"Sure." JD nodded, pushing his bangs out of his face as he did. "We only design stuff that we know is not going to interfere with any of the plane's systems. There's no doubt about safety. We just have to see if it works within those necessary parameters."

"Oh, I see," The man said, sitting back in his seat again.

JD laughed lightly, knowing full well that the man was still clueless. He figured the man had him pegged for a teenager until he'd said he worked for the FAA. One of these days, JD maintained, he was going to look his age. He'd almost not gotten a spot on FAM7 because of his youth, but he had the required experience and he knew his job well. Larabee still had his doubts, JD knew that much. But he also knew the doubts were based out of lack of in the field experience, not lack of knowledge itself. Chris trusted him fully with the communication equipment; he just didn't like the fact that running communications always left JD in one of the most dangerous spots on the plane—right outside the cockpit.

JD shivered with the knowledge that if someone was going to take over the plane they would go for the cockpit first, and there he was, the only agent standing in the way. Chris had been almost harsh with his command that no matter what happened around the cockpit or pilot, JD was to stand down until another agent could back him up. JD's responsibility was to maintain agent communication at all costs. JD wasn't sure which he would have preferred, the directive to go at a terrorist in hand to hand, or trying to hide his equipment and monitor it sufficiently enough to keep communication open.

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Vin smiled to himself and shifted in his crowded row as the plane leveled out and the seatbelt sign dinged off. He didn't like takeoffs or landings much, but he was continually thankful he'd at least outgrown his childhood malady of motion sickness. He might be able to fly now but he still doubted he'd ever be able to ride a carousel again. He couldn't help but chuckle softly as he heard JD respond to some passenger's question. He remembered the first time they went up as a team, Ezra asking JD if he had a story in mind in case someone questioned his equipment. JD looked confused for a minute but then Josiah and Ezra had ironed it one out for him in no time at all.

Relaxing back in his seat, as much as was possible, Vin easily observed the passengers around him. From his seat he could just see Buck about six rows in front of him. Josiah was behind him somewhere, Chris and Nathan were both in the lower deck business sections and JD was up top, leaving Ezra in first class. Vin wondered absently how it was that Ezra always managed to finagle a first class seat?

Around him, there was an interesting mix of passengers, each stranger forced into the personal space of another and doing their best to remain aloof and distant. Three people crammed into the row in front of him, and yet no one had said more than hello to the other. His own row included a man and woman who were traveling together, content to ignore him and the rest of the plane.

Vin wondered to himself it they were going to keep up their displays of affection through out the flight. He could only imagine explaining that one to Chris. 'Sorry Cowboy, I missed the whole 'there's a bomb on the plane' thing. I was distracted by Romeo and Juliet's efforts to join the mile high club.' Forget Larabee's response, Buck would never let him hear the end of it.

He watched as the flight attendants for his section of the plane wrestled a food trolley down the narrow aisle, preparing to hand each passenger an orange juice and packaged danish. His stomach rumbled quietly, reminding him that he was hungry and he tried to ignore the fact that Ezra had just ordered Eggs Benedict.

Glancing around the cabin, Vin tensed suddenly as a feeling of unease swept over and settled on him. "Got a bad feeling." He murmured just loud enough to be sure the other's heard. He saw Buck sit up a little straighter in his seat and heard a soft "um hmm" of affirmation from Josiah. They could feel it too; he was sure. He only hoped that for once, his bad feeling would turn out to be nothing more than a feeling.

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Chris leaned back in his seat and waited patiently as a red haired flight attendant named Julie cleared away the remains of his breakfast. He knew he should have eaten more of the fresh fruit mixture, but since Vin's soft comment, his tension levels had skyrocketed.

There was a natural ease about Tanner's ability to read people and situations that made Chris confident in the man's instincts. He'd been around long enough himself to pick up on the subtle atmospheric unease around him.

Julie moved on and Chris flipped the tray back into its upright position. A Business News Today magazine poked out of the seat pocket but he chose to ignore it. Beside him, a short balding executive had already shrugged out of his suit coat and was typing away at a report on his laptop.

Chris sighed softly and pinched the bridge of his nose, his thoughts floundering as he scanned the cabin again. He shifted; the pressure at the small of his back reminding him that his weapon was still there. It was not the most comfortable way to spend an eleven-hour flight, but he'd found that shoulder holsters tended to be more noticeable. He reached up and turned up the cool air, aiming it directly at him then adjusted his casual suit jacket and tried to look uninterested as he carefully studied the passengers around him.

He was seated in the smallest business class section of the plane, right behind the main galley. He hated the limited view. It left him feeling blind and hampered, but he knew the position allowed him the best chance of sneaking into the galley and then upstairs, if he needed to.

Quickly he began to run possible scenarios through his mind again. There were so many that it seemed overwhelming for a moment but he knew that his team was very well trained. They were just new to working together. His nerves continued to remind him that even though they were prepared for anything and everything…up until now they hadn't had to do anything more than be prepared.

He listened intently, singling out the sounds from each of his agents. It had taken him awhile to get used to the communication system that the FAM teams used. The first few training missions had left him with horrible headaches from trying to process all the input at once. It helped that the systems were designed to pick up sounds only in close proximity to each agent and over time Chris had learned to filter. Thankfully his agents had all learned that constant jabbering was not a good thing. He was pretty sure he was not the only man who'd needed to adjust to the system.

He smiled. It sounded like Buck and JD were playing a video game that JD had managed to rig up between their laptops. Buck's occasional cursing telling him that JD was winning. Though it might have sounded like his agents were completely caught up in the game, Chris knew that they were paying close attention to what was going on around them.

Vin, Nathan and Ezra were all quiet at the moment, although Nathan had been talking earlier. It seemed the Doc had ended up seated next to an elderly hypochondriac. Chris was somewhat concerned about Ezra's silence. Even the southerner's interactions with the flight attendant were subdued. Usually Standish oozed with charm when dealing with the flight staff but Chris had been around him just enough to know that something was wrong now. Nothing major, or else Ezra would have found a way to alert the others; this was different. Something had caused Ezra to put his walls up higher than normal and Chris swore he'd heard the man mutter 'dear lord' earlier.

Chris' thoughts turned from Ezra to Josiah as he heard the big man begin to describe the Peace Corps to someone. Sanchez had spent almost five years with the corps and if they knew the man was still such a devoted recruiter, they'd have put him on a payroll by now. Larabee listened as Sanchez described Mexico City as if he'd just been there yesterday and mused a moment over the men of his team.

He still wasn't sure what had motivated CO Travis to put such an eclectic bunch together but part of him hoped it worked out. The other part wanted to run away at full speed. He could feel the bonds between the seven of them strengthening every day they worked together and he wasn't sure he was ready to actually care about someone else again. If he was honest with himself he knew it was already too late. He just hoped he was ready for whatever came their way.

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Nathan bit back a groan as he heard the lady next to him begin to inhale. He knew it was coming; she was going to ask him another question. Quickly he stood and moved down the aisle toward the restroom. He just couldn't handle another question from that woman. What in the world had possessed him to admit he was a paramedic in the first place? Oh right…his cover was that he was going to an international medical conference for further training.

Shaking his head he slipped into the unoccupied little room and closed the door behind him. "Two minutes, JD." he said quietly and smiled when his earpiece turned off. He looked at himself in the mirror and wondered what good it did to signal JD for privacy when the signal itself gave away his intentions to the entire team. He shrugged; it was better than the team listening to the whole process he supposed.

His wire came back on just as he was stepping back out of the restroom. He took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself again for Mrs. Swertfager. He didn't know if he could handle another handful of way too personal questions dealing with her current state of health. Maybe by the time he got back to his seat she would be caught up in a novel or maybe he could pull out one of his medical journals and pretend to be caught up in an article. With his luck, though, the graying little woman would probably start drilling him with questions about the article.

Nathan made a point not to look in Chris' direction as he turned the opposite way and headed back to his seat. His brown eyes swept the cabin quickly then settled on a man seated at the front of the cabin. The man looked over his shoulder and caught Nathan's gaze. There was coldness in the stranger's dark eyes. A chill darted up Nathan's spine and as he took his seat he whispered "S- one."

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Josiah looked up in surprise when he heard the code from Nathan. S-one was simply a 'suspicious' character alert for the rest of the team. They usually had one on every flight; someone who just set wrong on their radar, but Nathan had never used the S-one alert before. With a higher level of concentration, Josiah watched the passengers around him.

The young man next to him had listened politely as he'd spoken about Mexico City and the Peace Corps but eventually the youth's eyes had glazed over with the look Josiah recognized as polite tolerance. The kid was bored with him, so Josiah had ended his story swiftly and pretended to be caught up in the movie playing on the video monitors.

Now, as he looked around, he catalogued the passengers with a closer eye. It didn't escape his notice that a middle-aged man, not much smaller than himself, was signaling the flight attendant for yet another drink. The man was three rows up and five seats over from him, but Josiah could clearly hear the gruff tones being used to address the man he knew as Bill. Though Bill was only about JD's size, he was holding his own against the other passenger's verbal abuse. Josiah decided that he would hold off on any alerts to the others. There was little they could do in this situation anyway since they had been strictly instructed not to get involved with disgruntled passengers unless it escalated to the point that the flight crew requested assistance.

Josiah leaned back in his seat again reassured that for now, there were no problems in his section of the plane. He'd just started to relax when he was surprised by a harsh question directed at Ezra.

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"So you like your new job Standish?" Rogers' hostile voice jolted Ezra out of his quiet thoughts. Turning slightly in his seat to face Rogers better, he glared at his former friend.

"It's satisfactory," he replied managing to keep his voice even.

"I'm surprised anyone would hire you. I mean with your history and all." The insinuation in Rogers' voice was obvious.

Ezra kept his face expressionless. "Let it go Rogers." He knew the rest of his team was listening by this point, hearing every implication against his character. It was bad enough that they knew about his tainted past, he didn't need Rogers spelling the details out for them.

"What's the matter, Ezra? Truth hurt?" Rogers bit out in a loud snarl.

"I'll let you know when I hear some," Ezra replied bitterly. He heard the light laugh from JD and thought maybe that it was Chris who had growled out a soft curse. He felt like a kid on the schoolyard, trading taunts with the local bully. He cast a glance around the first class section before turning back toward the window and tried to ignore the other man. He'd have to talk to Chris about seating on the next flight. It wasn't easy to observe the entire cabin when he was in the second seat from the front.

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Chris frowned as he listened to the man Ezra had called Rogers harass his agent with questions. What were the chances that Ezra would end up on the same flight as someone he knew? Ezra had a hard enough time letting his teammates get to know him without someone throwing his past in his face while they were listening. Rogers might not be aware he had an audience, but Ezra certainly was. Chris cursed softly when Ezra effectively cut the man off and ended the short conversation. He could hear the strain in his agent's voice. Damn, they didn't need this now. Ezra needed to be focused on this flight not on memories from his ruined NSA career.

Larabee shook his head slightly, ignoring the look from the passenger beside him. He was familiar with Standish's file, the facts of it anyway. He'd read the accusations and the investigative reports, had scoured them thoroughly as soon as he knew Standish was going to be assigned to his team. He'd found nothing that came close to proving that Ezra had ever sold out any in-field agents and neither had the NSA investigators, but that hadn't stopped the agency from destroying the man professionally. It had come down to Ezra accepting Orrin Travis' offer to transfer to the FAA or being fired. Chris still didn't know why Ezra had accepted the transfer, but Standish had worked well as a special agent for the Civil Aviation Security division for a year before joining the FAM7 team. Even though FAM teams were all made up of volunteers, Chris suspected that Travis had had a lot to do with Standish being placed on Team 7.

Glancing at his watch Chris wondered exactly how much trouble this Rogers was going to stir up. This could end up being a very long flight.

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"Interesting game?" Buck looked up at Korine's question and immediately was shot by JD, his last space ship dissolving behind a large blinking 'game over' message.

"Damn, um oh yeah, sorry," he sputtered as he flipped the laptop closed. He could hear JD laughing softly and swore he'd get even with the kid later.

"Didn't look like you were doing too well there." Korine smiled as she brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear.

"How could I concentrate on the game with such a beauty sitting beside me?" Buck asked easily, smiling as Korine rolled her eyes. "You're not buying that one are you?"

Korine shook her head. "Not really."

The man sitting on the other side of Korine just shook his head and kept his nose in his magazine. 'Smart man,' Buck thought. He wasn't about to tell Korine he had actually been distracted by a conversation happening in first class.

"So, what is a grown man doing playing computer games anyway?" Korine asked as she ran a thumb over the edge of her book, fanning the pages.

"Why not?" Buck grinned. "I test games for a living. You know, research their marketability, handle focus groups, etc." He counted at least four different laughs from his earpiece but pointedly ignored them.

Korine raised an eyebrow, obviously unsure whether to believe him or not. Before she could voice her doubts however, Buck cut in with a question of his own.

"What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a reporter." Korine answered easily.

"Really?" Buck wasn't sure why her answer surprised him.

"Yeah, don't tell me you've never seen me on TV?" Korine tilted her head to the side as she waited for his reply. The man on the other side of her chuckled softly.

"Uh…" Searching for an answer, Buck missed the flash of mischief in her eyes. "No, I haven't."

Korine laughed and shook her head. "Probably because I haven't been on the air yet. I'm on my first assignment with the Time news Channel. This is Dan, my cameraman." She winced, realizing how sing song the introduction had sounded.

Dan grimaced as he looked up and nodded at Buck but there was humor in his eyes as he added, "It's Daniel."

"I can see why." Buck shook the blonde's hand and settled back in his seat while Korine went on to describe the feature she was doing on the pyramids.

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Now that Buck seemed to be distracted by the reporter, the game was just not holding JD's interest. Smiling to himself, he puttered with the settings on his computer. Well, the team's computer actually, but JD viewed the Roughrider I Series as his own. He ran a hand over the dark aluminum casing and sighed contentedly, then laughed remembering Buck's crass innuendo about his 'unnatural' relationship with the computer. JD shook his head; the thing was worth every penny of the $8000 plus price tag and could do almost anything. Anything except what Buck liked to insinuate or run for an unlimited amount of time on one battery. Glancing at his watch, he debated a moment, calculating the length of the flight in his head, before deciding to go ahead and put a new battery into the system.

From the empty seat beside him, JD picked up a small box that looked like a mini mixing board. Carefully he double- checked the machine, making sure that the channel was set to the one that had been pre-approved by the pilot before the flight. JD hated using the antiquated system. It was so much easier to control the entire set-up from the laptop where he could fine-tune the volume levels and give the others privacy whenever they needed it. The back-up plan gave them the rudimentary ability to communicate and nothing more, though JD figured in a crisis that would be better than nothing.

"Battery change," he warned as he switched everyone over to the backup program. Immediately he noticed more background noise over his own receiver. Quickly and efficiently, JD went through the process of changing the machine's battery and within minutes he had the computer back at full power and the back up unit on stand by.

"FUI," Josiah's voice over his earpiece made JD jump slightly. He smiled at the code, must be there was a passenger drinking too much again. There seemed to be one on every flight they took. This one must be starting to get agitated already or Josiah wouldn't have alerted them. Looking at his watch, JD sighed. It wasn't even lunchtime yet, just over two hours into the flight and someone was already drunk.

Leaning forward JD set the back up communications board on the floor and after one last check to make sure it was on, he pushed it under the seat next to his and tucked the bag he had been carrying it in around it. He was just sitting up when all hell broke loose around him.

"Nobody move!" The heavily accented shout came from behind him and instinctively JD turned in his seat, his hand moving toward the weapon strapped to his ankle. Two men were storming up the aisle; both armed with semi-automatic weapons. The first man in the duo was pushing the flight attendant, Melanie, in front of him, his weapon pressed into the back of her head.

"Shit." JD grabbed his laptop, instead of his gun and hunched over it as another shout commanded everyone to keep their heads down.

* * *

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

* * *

Josiah watched as Bill ran a hand through his short-cropped brown hair and took a deep breath to calm himself. It was evident that the steward had his hands full with the now drunken passenger.

"Mr. Wood, please settle down." Bill was straining to keep his voice firm and polite but Josiah could tell that the man was losing his patience.

"FUI." He smiled even through the seriousness of the alert. ' "Flying under the influence," leave it to Buck to have come up with a warning like that.' He mused. Still focused on the inebriated passenger, it took Josiah a second to interpret what he was hearing from JD's section of the plane. Before he could react, a man sitting six rows in front of him jumped to his feet and began shouting for everyone to get down.

The assailant's dark eyes flashed angrily as he pointed his weapon back and forth. A lady somewhere behind Josiah screamed and the weapon was aimed in his direction.

"Shut up, I say! Heads down!" The man shouted in English, then repeated the order again in what Josiah thought was Arabic.

Taking a calming breath, Josiah leaned forward in his seat, following orders. "Confirm one," he whispered.

"What?" The young man next to him asked, obviously trying to keep himself from hyperventilating.

Josiah smiled faintly. "Just do what they say and keep your head down."

The boy nodded, his blue eyes locking with Josiah's a moment before he buried his head in his arms and focused on the floor.

Vin almost jumped out of his seat when he heard the shouting start but the dark haired man from two seats in front of him stood up and pointed a semi-automatic at him, effectively quelling Vin's instinctual reaction.

He heard Josiah's soft confirmation and whispered his own, as he ducked his head to avoid eye contact. The man next to him had wrapped his arms protectively around his whimpering girlfriend. "Just stay down and quiet," Vin told them.

Across the aisle from him another woman was approaching hysterics. Her pre-teen daughter was trying vainly to hold her mother down in her seat. Tears rolled down the young girl's face as she quietly pleaded for her mother to be quiet.

"Calm down, lady!" Vin reached across the aisle and grabbed the woman's other arm just as she tried to stand and yanked her roughly back into her seat. "You've got to calm down now," he ordered.

He glanced back up at the hijacker in time to see the butt of a weapon coming at him. Automatically, Vin turned his head and rolled with the hit. He let out a soft groan as the force of the blow sent him back against the couple in his own row. Darkness encroached and he could faintly hear the woman's screams intensify as the terrorist began to beat her. He felt hands holding him upright. "You okay, Mister?" whispered frantically into one ear while Chris' voice demanded a response in the other.

"Vin!" Chris hissed as loudly as he dared. "Report!" he ordered. He could still hear a woman screaming and had almost felt the impact when Vin had been hit.

Glancing around while his position still hid him from any assailants, he tried to reassure passengers around him. "Just stay down and do what you're told."

He heard Buck confirm and warn that one hijacker was headed his way and quickly turned around in his seat, ducking his head. "Vin," he tried again, this time to be rewarded by a faint, " 'm fine." Tanner's voice was strained and hushed and Chris realized that the woman's screams had finally stopped.

He tensed as a man stormed past him, shouting and striking out at random passengers as he commanded them to stay down. Larabee tilted his head up just enough to be able to see what was going on. The hijacker entered the galley and a moment later was dragging Julie out of the small kitchen. Violently he shoved the woman down onto the floor in the middle of the aisle.

"Stay down," he ordered, poking Julie with the barrel of his gun, then he turned and moved forward into the next section of the plane.

Careful to remain seated and cowering, Julie slid backwards the few feet until she was next to Chris' seat. "What do we do?" she asked, keeping her head down and not looking at him.

"Whatever they tell you to," Chris answered, trying to process the screams and cries coming from all over the plane. He closed his eyes at the sound of the first gunshot. "Stand down," he ordered the team. "Stand down."

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Buck swore and dropped his laptop onto the floor, kicking it under the seat in front of him. "Get down." He commanded harshly to Korine and Daniel only a moment before the noise erupted around them. Instantly, a man was standing at the front of their cabin waving a weapon around and shouting at everyone to stay down.

"How did you know?" Korine tried to ask but Daniel and Buck both grabbed her and pushed her head down to her knees.

"Shut up." Buck didn't mean to sound so heartless but he was straining over the chaos to hear anything from JD. He listened to Josiah confirm a hijacker in his section and winced at Vin's altercation with another hijacker. He frowned when Tanner didn't immediately answer Chris.

'Come on, JD,' he thought as he listened for any sound from his roommate. He could hear the demands for someone to open the cockpit door and knew that the hijackers couldn't be very far from JD if he could hear them that clearly. Glancing up for another quick check the location of the hijacker in his part of the plane, Buck saw him head towards Chris' area.

"Incoming, Chris," he warned. Another shout from behind him prevented Buck from daring to lean out into the aisle and try to check on Chris or Vin visually.

Forcing himself to stay put when he heard the gunshot, followed quickly by Chris' order to stand down. "Damn it!" Buck growled as he wiped a hand over his face. He felt like he'd lost the ability to breathe until he heard JD's barely audible whisper. "Confirm two."

"What the hell is going on with you?" Buck flinched at Korine's sharp question --her expression a cross between fear and anger. "Who are you?" she asked.

Buck could only stare at her; unable to fathom that in the middle of a hijacking she was actually risking drawing attention to them just to ask him such a question.

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Nathan heard the muffled shouting and JD's panicked curse only a moment before the man he'd labeled as an 'S-one' stood up and began waving his weapon menacingly at the passengers around him. Shouting in fractured English the terrorist commanded everyone to keep their heads down. He hurried up and down the aisle pushing one passenger after another into compliance.

Jackson started to duck his head when he realized that Mrs. Swertfager was still rambling on about ingrown toenails. Quickly he clamped one hand over her mouth and bent her forward over her legs, as far as he could without hurting her. He held her there until the hijacker had passed by them.

"Hush now!" he whispered emphatically. Once he was sure the elderly lady was going to stay quiet, he released her and turned his attention to monitoring what was happening around him. "Confirm one," he whispered, his eyes widening as another heavily armed man entered the cabin. "Add one more," he amended. "Coming your way, Ezra," he warned as the hijackers finished their brief conference and one moved on towards first class.

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Trapped at the front of the plane, Ezra listened anxiously as the confusion of the takeover intensified through the aircraft. Helpless to do anything but listen as his teammates reported in, he ran through possible scenarios of action he might succeed in taking on his own. He was just about to get out of his seat when he heard the gun shot and Chris' order to stand down. Slumping into his seat, he caught Rogers' gaze as panicked murmuring spread through out their cabin.

"Watch my back," Rogers ordered as he glanced towards the expandable doors separating first class from the rest of the plane.

"No." Ezra shook his head. "Stay where you are, Rogers."

Rogers' eyes widened with disbelief. "Do you know what they'll do to me if they find out I'm NSA?" he asked. "Do you care?" he added angrily.

"Sit down and shut up and they'll never know," Ezra's accent sharpened. "Trust me," he implored.

"Like hell." Rogers began to rise from his seat when the armed hijacker bursting through the flimsy plastic door cut off his action. Shouting angrily and gesturing with his weapon, the man forced the passengers down in their seats. Quickly he moved to the small open area at the front of the cabin, standing guard less than three feet from Ezra's seat.

Moments later another man entered and the two began conversing in Arabic. Keeping his head down Ezra quietly began to relay information to the rest of the team. "Confirm two," he murmured. "Rashid and Jamil I believe"

"Arab?" Chris asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, sounds like there are six of them." Ezra's voice dropped lower as the man named Rashid stepped closer to him and shouted again for everyone to shut up.

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"Open it!"

"I can't."

JD tried to block out Melanie's pleas with the hijackers as he frantically keyed in commands, programming the laptop to run the communications system on auto. He could hear shouting all over the plane and blinked when he heard Vin get hit. Hearing Nathan confirm, he belated remembered to do the same. He dropped his voice as low as he could to whisper, "Confirm two."

"I said, open it!" the hijacker fired at the passengers, the shot barely skimming past the man who had been talking to JD earlier, and embedded itself into the seat.

JD listened to Chris command them to stand down, and hurriedly tried to finish his programming. He heard Melanie crying, "I can't, I can't," while Ezra named two of the attackers.

A second gunshot rocked the air around him and he looked up in time to see Melanie slide to the floor, blood pooling from a hole in her chest.

"Oh God," he gasped, blinking at the suddenness of the woman's death.

"JD?" Buck's worried voice kicked him back into motion.

"One innocent dead," JD responded curtly, ducking down further in his seat as the hijackers shot their way into the cockpit. "They're in the cockpit," he informed the others.

"Sit tight. Hide the computer," Chris ordered softly.

"I'm on it." JD's fingers flew as he buried the running program under layers of encryption that he and Ezra had set up. Task completed, he flipped the case closed and shoved the computer down onto the floor, then glancing up to check on the other passengers, he froze with the realization that the man who'd just killed Melanie was staring right at him.

JD swallowed hard, his throat suddenly very dry as the hijacker stepped closer to him. Trying to follow the earlier orders, JD dropped his gaze to the floor and tried to scoot further down in his seat. He felt like he was in a sudden cone of silence. Chaos reigned in the background but in the area right around him, in that moment, there was nothing but those malicious black eyes.

He flinched when he felt the barrel of the hijacker's gun scrape against the skin under his chin. The applied pressure forced him to tilt his head up and face the terrorist.

"That?" The man jerked his head towards the black aluminum case, his question clear. JD opened his mouth to answer but not fast enough to appease his captor. The blow to his jaw almost knocked him into the next seat. Angrily JD suppressed the urge to fight back, Chris' order to stand down and the other hijacker reminding him that it wasn't the time. So instead of fighting, he cowered.

"Please," he pleaded

"What is it?" the man asked again, gesturing with his weapon.

"Just a computer, please," JD hated the weakness and panic in his voice and prayed the others would realize he wasn't really this much of a coward.

"Ahh…" The hijacker seemed to be processing the information and for an extra long moment JD feared that the man would investigate but instead, with a sneer, he focused on JD again. "Rich boy," he stated knowingly.

"No." JD's protests were cut off when the terrorist grabbed him by the hair and roughly yanked his head back.

"You with me." The black eyes glittered with anticipation as JD felt himself violently hauled from his seat and shoved towards the cockpit.

"Oh no," Buck moaned into his hands as he listened to the hijacker push his friend around.

"What?" Korine leaned closer, but Buck ignored her.

"Chris?" he implored when he heard another yelp from JD.

"Easy, Buck, he can hold his own," Chris reassured; knowing JD could still hear them.

"Who the hell are you talking to?" Korine's volume rose slightly, invoking another shout for silence from the hijacker guarding their section.

"Shut up!" Buck hissed.

"But…" Korines eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him, her voice lowering again. "You know what's going on don't you?"

Buck shook his head. "I need you to stay quiet and follow directions. I don't have time for you right now," his hushed voice was authoritative. "To keep us all alive you need to just sit there and trust me."

Korine pulled back, her expression slightly shocked. The fear she'd been repressing in lieu of her curiosity became evident as she obediently nodded.

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"Chris?" Vin heard Buck's fear and Chris' calm assurance that JD would be fine. Rubbing his thumb against his bruised temple, he attempted to clear the pain from his head and get a grasp on his bearings.

Ezra had reported that there were only six hijackers. 'Not an impossible mission,' he thought calmly. His head throbbed but he was thankful he'd had the half-second to see the blow coming at him. If he hadn't have turned with it, he was sure he'd still be out of commission. His gaze flickered to the unconscious woman across from him then up at the one hijacker pacing up and down the aisle, promising himself that the time for action would come soon enough.

From JD's Com unit he could plainly hear the hijackers screaming at the pilots to reroute the flight. The Kid had to be right in there with them. Vin supported his aching head in his hands, what would they do if the hijackers decided to search JD? If they found his identification and badge, it would insure an instant death sentence. The shouting continued and Vin listened with fascination as Ezra continued a steady whisper of translation.

"They're demanding the flight go to Libya," Ezra, keeping his head down, monitored the location of the hijacker closest to him by focusing on the man's scuffed and battered military boots. Preemptively, Standish folded his hands in his lap, hoping that if his whispers were noticed at all, Rashid would yell at him for praying and let it go with a warning.

"Claiming to be members of Husam Al Din." He knew the others on the team would recognize the name of the group. Translated as "Sword of Faith" the sect had been behind numerous terrorist incidents in the recent years, under the direction of their leader, the currently incarcerated Imran El Farran. "They want El Farran released immediately."

Ezra heard both Vin and Chris curse. El Farran was in an Israeli prison charged with organizing the bombing of a Jewish elementary school. The casualty count had been over one hundred. The leader was also wanted in suspicion of terrorist attacks and threats in four other countries, including the United States. There was no way any government would even consider letting the man out of prison.

"More names of our current hosts, Naji and Malik. Frequent references to an Ayyad."

"Ayyad Taymullah?" Josiah questioned rhetorically. Another recognizable name, Taymullah was third in command of the Husam Al Din.

Josiah fought off the wave of hopelessness that threatened to crash down on him with Ezra's words. Seven years spent as a CIA counter terrorist specialist ensured his familiarity with groups like Husam Al Din. If he'd had any doubts before, he knew now that the men rampaging through the airplane were prepared to die for their cause, and they had no qualms about taking anyone else's life with them.

Noting that the hijackers were concentrating their attention on the front of the plane and in the cockpit, Josiah took the advantage to carefully do a visual check on the passengers around him. He'd been concerned about the drunken passenger from earlier, but the intensity of the situation had sobered the man up quickly. He now sat subdued, pale and as quiet as the rest of the hostages around him.

"They're spread pretty thin," Josiah murmured as he settled back in his seat. The young man next to him turned his head to the side to watch him, his eyes wide with confusion.

"Need to wait." Chris' voice cut through the sounds from the cockpit. From the muffled voice of the pilot, it sounded like they were informing air traffic control that they were changing course.

"Need a better fix on all of 'em," Vin added. "They're moving around too much."

Josiah nodded, his hands curling into fists at another grunt of pain from JD. He understood the reasons for waiting but that didn't make it any easier.

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JD tried to suppress a moan when the hijacker, referred to by the other one as Hakim, smacked him solidly in the side of the head and then shoved him at the leader.

Ayyad Taymullah gripped JD's neck and pulled the smaller man close to him. His dark brown eyes roamed over JD with pure hatred emanating from their depths. JD struggled to breathe as the grip tightened slightly, leaving him absently wondering if Taymullah's fingers were made out of steel.

"You're with me, boy." Ayyad jerked him roughly through the cockpit door, his grasp moving from the front of JD's neck to the back, as he issued an order to Hakim in Arabic.

"You and me will join the rich folks." Ayyad's smile was frightening and Chris' order to stand down was the only thing that kept him from spinning and stripping the weapon, now bruising his ribs, out of the other man's hands. He wasn't sure what was worse at this point…staying with trigger happy Hakim, or hanging out with the pushy psycho leader.

Stumbling, JD tried to keep his balance on the stairs but he missed the third step from the bottom and ended up sprawled on his face. He grunted painfully as Ayyad pulled him up by his hair and dragged him through the business section and into first class. He searched for Nathan but it was all he could do to keep on his feet as Ayyad consistently pulled him off balance. The soft "oh damn" let him know that Nathan had seen him though.

Suddenly they stopped moving and Ayyad release the grip on his hair, choosing instead to wrap an arm around his throat. The gun moved from his ribs to his temple. It felt crowded in the front of the plane, the four hijackers conferred briefly before two headed toward the back of the plane. JD's gaze darted around the cabin before settling on Ezra. Their eyes met for a moment, reassurance going both ways, before JD looked away, not daring to raise any suspicion from Ayyad.

Suddenly the arm around his neck tightened. The gun pressed brutally against his head and he gasped, fearing that Taymullah had made a connection between him and Ezra. His vision began to blur and though he knew the shouting around him was in English, he was concentrating too hard on breathing to understand what was being said. As everything began to fade to gray he wondered if Chris would ever forgive him for screwing up.

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Ezra had just reported that two hijackers were headed back toward the others and that JD was okay when his eyes met momentarily with JD's. It was a relief to see the young agent was maintaining his calm much better than it had sounded earlier. The anger and frustration in Dunne's eyes betrayed the truth. Ezra would have to remember to commend him on his acting skills.

Out of the corner of his vision, Ezra saw a flash of movement and turned to see Rogers trying to stand up.

"Sit down!" Ayyad yelled, instantly tightening his grip on JD. "Sit down or I kill him!" He jabbed the gun into JD's temple causing his captive to flinch. JD's hands clawed desperately at Taymullah's muscular arm.

Rogers shook his head and raised his arms in a placating gesture. "You don't want to do this," He spoke in a sickeningly soothing voice.

"Shut the hell up, Rogers," Ezra hissed angrily.

"Who?" Chris sounded livid.

"Sit down!" Ayyad screamed again.

"What's going on?" Vin questioned.

"How's JD?" Ezra ignored Buck and the others, blocking them out as Ayyad spun JD around and thrust him backwards. Disoriented, JD stumbled back a couple of steps and swayed as he gasped for breath. Ayyad leveled the gun at Dunne, his face contorted with determined rage.

Launching himself to his feet, Ezra slammed sideways into JD, sending his friend flying out of the aisle and into Rogers. Ezra never heard the weapon go off, but the fire in his side told him without a doubt that Taymullah had pulled the trigger. Spun around by the force of the impact, Ezra found himself face down in his seat for a moment and then he was sliding. He landed on his back, the jolt of the landing evoking a sharp grunt of pain. Stunned, he lay there blinking up at the curved ceiling and listening to Chris' angry whisper, demanding answers.

"What happened? Damn it, Ezra? JD? Somebody tell me what the hell is going on!"

"Fuck," the word was out before Ezra could reconsider. He blinked once at his own misappropriated concern, wondering absently what kind of man worried about sounding like a gentleman when he had a gaping hole in his side.

"Ezra? What the hell happened?" Chris' voice again, slightly distorted but clearly frustrated. "Is JD okay?"

Ezra struggled to move his hand to his left side, biting his bottom lip and pressing down on the wound with as much strength as he could. He felt the warmth of his blood as it oozed between his fingers.

"Ezra?" Chris' voice was sharp and demanding.

"I don't know," Ezra admitted weakly. He was pretty sure JD hadn't been hit; he only remembered hearing one shot, but at the angle he'd landed he couldn't see anything very well.

"Check, damn it." Buck ordered angrily, barely able to stay in his seat as he waited. Reaction to the gunfire echoed through the aircraft -- passengers crying out in fear, their captors shouting for silence and punctuating the orders with fists. All of it becoming background noise as Team 7 focused on their two agents in first class.

Ezra winced, throbbing pain taking his breath away. Riding it out, he closed his eyes, marveling at how his hearing seemed to sharpen. He swore he could hear his own heartbeat racing wildly, or maybe that was his misconception since he also thought he could feel it under his sticky, cramping fingers. "Think, Standish," he commanded himself.

"Come on, Ezra," Buck insisted again.

Ezra turned his head to the side but the only thing he could see was the floor under the seat in front of him. He'd landed lengthwise between the seats with his feet in the aisle. Arching slightly in an attempt to lift his head enough to view his friend, a bolt of agony raced up his side. "Hell," he bit out, his head thumping back to the floor.

"I believe JD is alright, Mr. Wilmington, but I'm afraid I can not get a visual right now." He strained to keep his voice as level as possible.

"Ezra, are you hit?" Nathan's question cut through the communication as Ezra struggled to apply more pressure to his side, the awkward angle of his arm coupled with his lack of energy prevented him from being overly effective in the task. Taymullah was shouting at Rashid in Arabic to get the other passengers to shut up.

"Yes, Mr. Jackson," Ezra answered as he tried to blink the sweat from his eyes and wondered how he could sweat and shiver at the same time.

TBC....


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

JD knew he should be moving. His neck ached from where Taymullah had half strangled him. His head was pounding thanks to the hijacker's overzealous attempt to drive the barrel of his weapon through his skull. He could hear Chris and Buck demanding reports. "I'm okay, guys," he rasped, pushing himself half off Rogers. He ignored the look of confusion from the now complacent man. Pointing a finger at him, he warned in a hiss, "You move and I'll kill you myself."

"Chris," JD whispered again, eyeing the still agitated Taymullah. "I'm fine." He frowned listening to Ezra explaining that he couldn't get a visual. It finally registered that the others couldn't hear him. Looking down he saw his transmitter was missing. "Damn!" Quickly he began searching for the small device disguised as a button, but couldn't find it. Taymullah started yelling again, and Ezra confirmed that he was hit. "Shit." JD searched for Ezra, finding him sprawled on the floor in front of his original seat. Instinctively he moved toward his friend then froze, realizing he'd just drawn Ayyad's attention. "Oh damn." He ducked his head trying to avoid eye contact but was still ready when he was hauled roughly to his feet.

"You lucky rich boy." Taymullah's smile was sinister. "Your hero." The terrorist pointed with his weapon at Ezra. JD inhaled audibly seeing Ezra's expression of pain and zeroing in on all the blood. "He'll die now, in your place," Ayyad snarled. "You want to watch him die?" JD shook his head as Taymullah pulled him close and growled in his ear. "No? See if you can save your savior then, rich boy." With a hard shove JD landed heavily on his knees beside Ezra.

"Oh God," JD kept his voice low, squeezing in as close to Ezra as he could. His back pressed painfully against the corner of the passenger seat in front of Ezra's.

"Mr. Dunne, good to see you're alright." Ezra smiled weakly, his voice barely more than a whisper. JD heard Buck's 'thank god,' and Josiah's 'good, good.' Checking quickly, he noted that Taymullah had moved to the far side of the cabin and was speaking animatedly with Rashid.

"Yeah, well one of us is." JD ran his hands over his face, as Ezra chuckled softly, then grimaced and tried to suppress a groan.

"There's so much blood, god, help me, Nathan." JD leaned low over Ezra's chest so that Ezra's transmitter would pick up his voice. "My transmitter is gone but I can hear you, please," he pleaded, trying to remember where to start as he pressed his hand down on top of Ezra's to try and stem the blood flow.

"Get pressure on the wound, JD. You've got to stop the bleeding," Nathan sat wringing his hands anxiously. It'd barely been five minutes since Ezra'd been hit but time was a foe fighting against them now. "Where's he hit?"

"His side, " JD answered, "low, like right above his hip I think."

Nathan looked around for the hijacker closest to him and realized the man must have moved to another section of the plane. "Get his tie off and loosen his collar. Take his belt and jacket off too. Can you raise his feet any?" Nathan rattled off his instructions trying to keep his voice low and yet clear enough for JD to hear everything. He knew he was getting strange looks from Mrs. Swertfager and the others close to him but he ignored them and kept watching for the hijackers.

JD listened as his fingers worked at loosening Ezra's tie. "Not without moving him, and there's nothing around to use other than his briefcase."

"Bend his knees then, keep his feet flat on the floor."

"My gun," Ezra hissed when JD unbuckled his belt and slipped it from the loops of his pants.

"Behind you?" JD asked, remembering Ezra had the same type holster as Chris and Buck. Ezra nodded his reply, biting his lower lip for control. "I'll slide it under the seat when I take your jacket off."

Very carefully, JD eased Ezra up against him and slid the other man's jacket off. He paused a moment to shove the weapon into hiding. "Shit," JD cursed, overwhelmed by the sight of the second wound where the bullet had exited Ezra's body.

"What?" Nathan asked anxiously.

"The bullet went through," JD rolled the jacket into a lump and pushed it under Ezra's head as he gently settled his friend down again.

"Damn," Nathan knew it was probably better in the long run that the bullet had gone straight through but right now he was concerned with blood loss. He tried to picture where JD had described the location of the wound, praying that no vital organs had been hit.

"Are you okay, son?" Mrs. Swertfager leaned close, her eyes filled with concern.

Nathan put a finger to his lips. "Shh," he reminded softly. "I'm fine, ma'am." To JD he asked, "You find anything to stop the bleeding?"

JD glanced around knowing if he used Ezra's shirt, he'd mess up the other man's communication with the others. "Yeah, I can use my shirts," he said, rapidly unbuttoning the blue cotton oxford. Shrugging it off, he checked to see where Taymullah was as he quickly folded the shirt into a soft pad of material. Thankfully the hijacker had no interest in him for the time being. JD whisked off his t-shirt next and folded it up the same as he had the shirt.

"Put pressure directly on the wounds," Nathan instructed. "Can you get his pants off?"

"My pants are just fine, Mr. Jackson," Ezra murmured in response, causing JD to smile despite the situation.

"Get them out of the way if you can," Nathan added, shaking his head. Leave it to Standish to be worried about dignity over bleeding to death.

Quickly JD unbuttoned Ezra's pants and unzipped his fly, pulling the soaked material of both the pants and boxers back carefully. "You're okay, Ez," he soothed, feeling Ezra stiffen. Gently he rolled Ezra up onto his side and pressed the larger shirt against the exit wound, flinching as Ezra cried out in pain.

"I'm sorry, Ezra," he apologized as he rolled the southerner back; hoping the man's weight would apply the pressure needed to stem the flow of blood from the exit wound. Ezra's eyes were closed and his jaw tight but he nodded to JD when he sensed the younger man's hesitation. "This is gonna hurt too," JD warned as he peeled back Ezra's shirt, pulled Ezra's hand away and pressed the folded t-shirt against his side.

"God," Ezra growled, his bloody fingers latching onto JD's forearm in a tight grip. He could feel the muscles flexing as Dunne held the makeshift compress in place.

"Easy," JD breathed, using his free hand to adjust Ezra's shirt and then reach for his other wrist to check his pulse. Ezra jumped slightly at his touch. "Just checking." JD managed a faint smile.

"I'm still here, Mr. Dunne."

JD noted the thickening accent before answering. "You better stay here too," he admonished earning a snort and half grin from the other man, as the grip on his arm tightened.

"How is he, JD?" Nathan asked.

"I am fine," Ezra growled in frustration, "you can ask me."

"He's okay," JD echoed, but wasn't completely successful at keeping the worry out of his voice.

Nathan watched as the man Ezra had called Rashid hustled from the first class section and past him into the next section, apparently relegated as the group's gopher.

"We need to move soon, Chris," he stated, the tightness in his voice betraying the level of his own worry.

Chris had listened to JD and Nathan while watching for any sign of a hijacker to appear in his small section of the plane. He could hear one moving around behind him and randomly ordering passengers to be quiet. "Report," he ordered without further explanation.

"One, clear shot," Buck answered instantly.

"One clear shot," Vin echoed.

"One, behind me and in motion," Nathan reported.

"One, clear," Josiah murmured softly.

Chris could hear the concern underlying each voice, along with the irritated impatience. It was time to take action before they missed the slim opportunity. "That leaves Taymullah and one upstairs," Chris noted.

"Rashid." Ezra's voice was notably weak.

"Who?" Chris asked.

"My man in motion," Nathan explained, "he's been back and forth."

"Taymullah's gopher," JD added.

"You two stay on him. JD can you handle Ayyad?"

"Yeah."

"Buck, I'll need cover getting upstairs."

"No problem."

"Gentlemen?" Ezra cut in, Taymullah's loud Arabic sounding in the background. "May I suggest we move this plan along? Taymullah is calling Rashid back in here to start collecting all forms of passenger identification."

"Shit. We ready then?" Chris asked, listening to the affirmatives. "We do this quick and easy," he instructed, using the code for deadly force. "On my count." The silence over the communication system was eerie as each agent waited, prepared to take the action that they trained hours each week for.

"On three." Chris' voice cut through the silence.

"One…  
two…  
three"

Buck stood up, his gun already out of his behind the back holster; he leveled and fired, the hollow point, grooved aluminum slug hitting its target with amazing efficiency. The hijacker slid to the floor, dead. Ignoring the gasp of surprise from Korine and Daniel Buck quickly moved forward into the next section to back up Chris, picking up the now discarded semi-automatic as he went. "One down." He confirmed to the others.

At the exact moment that Buck took his shot, Vin took his from a seated position, hitting the hijacker with a solid kill shot. "Everybody stay in your seats," he ordered over the screaming as he moved forward and collected the dead man's weapon.

Josiah confirmed his kill and calmly tried to reassure the passengers around him that everything was under control. He waved for Bill to help him keep everyone calm, while he moved to search the terrorist.

Buck cleared the galley and took the stairs two at a time to find Chris kneeling over another dead hijacker. "Stay here," Chris ordered. He could hear the fight going on in first class and though he knew Buck wanted to be there, right now he needed Wilmington upstairs.

Nathan watched Rashid duck into First class with the first gunshot, and cursed that he couldn't take him out. Moving forward, Jackson cautiously moved into position to provide back up.

JD held his breath as Chris began the count, his eyes locked with Ezra's. His friend's eyes widened suddenly, sending a clear warning. As Chris said three, JD spun on his heel, one leg kicking out and sweeping Taymullah off his feet. Springing, JD landed on top of the man, pressing his gun into the side of the terrorist's head. "Give me another reason, asshole," JD snarled, looking up quickly as Rashid burst into the room. The second hijacker's yelling cut off suddenly as the sound of as Ezra's shot reverberated through the small cabin. JD heard Ezra's gasp of pain from the weapon's recoil and Taymullah used the momentary distraction to toss JD up and over his head. JD bounced hard against the low partition dividing the cabin's center aisle seats and rolled up onto his knees, in a firing position.

"Not an average rich boy." Ayyad grinned threateningly at JD, enjoying the sudden standoff.

"Not rich at all." JD answered, wondering how he was going to get out of the situation. Taymullah took a step backwards, closer to Ezra. "He a friend of yours?" he asked arrogantly, then made the costly mistake of glancing in Ezra's direction. Ayyad jerked in surprise as the bullet entered his body, living only long enough to look back at the man he'd assumed was just a kid, before he slumped to the floor.

JD lowered his weapon slowly, his eyes sweeping the silent cabin before falling on Ezra. Nathan eased into the room, freezing when JD brought his gun up again. "JD!" Nathan squawked throwing his hands in the air. "It's me."

"Jeez, Nathan, warn a guy." JD relaxed as he tried to catch his breath, and wrapped his arm around his aching ribs. "Clear in First Class," he confirmed to the others, forgetting his transmitter was long gone.

Nathan nodded and repeated the signal as he moved to Ezra's side. "We're clear in first class."

Chris heard Nathan's all clear just as he stepped off the stairs and began to make his way toward first class. "Status check," he ordered, without stopping. His eyes swept over the passengers, most of who were beginning to stir, confusion and shock evident in their expressions.

"Secure," Josiah and Vin answered together.

"Secure," Buck repeated.

"Secure," Nathan added as Chris entered the small cabin.

"Flight secure," Chris reported back, following procedure. "You got it, Buck?"

"Covered," Buck answered easily, assuring Chris that he would handle the pilots for the moment.

Larabee moved quickly to JD. "You all right?" he asked, noting how the younger agent's arm was wrapped protectively around his rib cage. Bruises stood out on his face and neck; a small cut above one eye oozed blood. His bare chest was streaked with blood.

JD nodded. "Just…" he waved a red stained hand and half shrugged, his hazel eyes meeting Chris' gaze before looking towards Nathan. "Ezra."

Chris wanted to say it would all be okay but was afraid he'd only provide empty promises. Instead he found himself reaching out and squeezing JD's shoulder before he took a few steps to Nathan.

"How's he doing?"

"*I* am fine," Ezra's voice was tight with frustration and pain.

Chris took in the scene quickly, his eyes scanning over Ezra's stony expression. The paleness of the southerner's skin was highlighted by a light sheen of sweat. Chris tried not to focus on the overwhelming amount of blood.

Nathan knelt, crammed into the tiny space between two seats, leaning over Ezra. One hand was pressed tightly against Standish's hip while the other was wrapped around a wrist, checking his pulse. Jackson glanced up at Chris as he let go of Ezra's wrist and moved his hand around to apply more pressure to the exit wound. "I need my bag and the plane's med. kit." His voice betrayed his anxiousness.

Chris stood rooted in his spot, unable to tear his eyes from the blood seeping slowly up and over Nathan's dark fingers.

"Chris!" The sharpness in Jackson's voice made him jerk and focus on the medic's face. "He's doing alright, but I need that stuff now."

"I'll get it." Chris moved quickly down the aisle, not hearing JD's soft inquiry of concern. He needed the chance to catch his breath and get his bearings. He needed to push away the images crashing down on him and lock them away in the depths of his memory once again. Distant voices haunted him, Buck's harsh shouting; a scream that he'd never realized before had been his own.

"They're gone, Chris."

"Shot while they slept"

"Died instantly"

"Retaliation for the Twilight Mission."

Chris shook his head and reached for the overhead compartment closest to Nathan's seat. He ignored the questions fired from the passengers around him as he pulled down the medical kit. Determinedly he blocked the bloody images of the bodies of his wife and son and moved toward the galley to find the plane's medical kit and get it back to Nathan and Ezra.

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Buck sagged heavily against the open doorway leading to the cockpit when he heard the flight secure signal, then ducked inside. "We're good," he informed the pilot.

"Thank God." Jack Barnes ran a shaking hand over his face and looked at his co-pilot Evan Reese. "Contact air traffic control while I address the passengers."

"We're going to need to move some folks around in order to deal with the wounded," Buck told him. "Need emergency medical services on the ground too."

"That's SOP," Reese replied nodding. His gaze flitted past Buck, momentarily focused on the dead flight attendant, and filled with tears before he took a deep breath, met his captain's eyes and then turned back to the console.

Barnes swallowed slowly, not ready to see his crewmember's body yet.

"We'll take care of her," Buck said softly.

"Don't put her with them." The pilot's voice fell to a harsh whisper, his eyes pleading with Buck. Unable to find an adequate response, Buck simply bowed his head.

Satisfied, Barnes cleared his throat and flicked on the plane's intercom system. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. First off I want to assure you that our flight is once again secure and our hijackers have been successfully subdued. Your cooperation is of utmost importance right now," he hurried on with his statement, the confidence in his voice surprising Buck. "The men you see moving about the cabin now are federal air marshals and I ask that you cooperate with them and your flight crew as instructed and without question. Our flight will be rerouted to the nearest available international airport, but I will be keeping you updated. If you need medical attention, please notify your flight attendant and we will do our best to meet your needs. Please remain in your seats."

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Vin methodically wrapped one of the dead hijackers into a blanket as the captain spoke to a quiet airplane. He listened to Nathan softly reassuring Ezra and Ezra's occasional strained response. As good as it was to hear the southerner speaking, Vin was anxious to see him. He was surprised by his own need to visually confirm that the other man was going to be all right.

It'd been hard for Vin to join another team. He'd been satisfied working as a CAS special agent and had entered the FAM program only when Orrin Travis had asked him to consider volunteering. Tanner knew that though Standish had been in the NSA, instead of the US Marshals, their situations for needing a career change had been similar. Both men had shared the experience of being betrayed by the teammates they were suppose to be able to rely on to back them up. Right now, all Vin wanted to do was get to Ezra and find a way to remind the injured agent that this team was going to be different.

"Where are we putting the bodies, Chris?" he asked quietly. Some passengers were watching him closely, while others sat with their heads back and eyes closed.

"In front of the galley separating the business section, opposite the rest room so we can keep foot traffic clear," Chris answered immediately.

Vin looked up from his crouched position to see Josiah ready to lend a hand. At Tanner's signal they hoisted the body off the floor and made their way forward. After depositing the first body, they hurried to remove the others from sight as well.

Buck reverently covered Melanie's body with a blanket, learning her name from the flight wing shaped tag pinned to her lapel. He noticed how close she was to JD's seat and cringed inwardly that his friend had witnessed such brutality. Immediately after the thought, Buck internally reprimanded himself. As much as he tended to think of JD as a kid, he knew damned well that his roommate was a grown man capable of taking care of himself. 'Capable of taking down an international terrorist' Buck thought as he rose to his feet again. Pushing down his protective instincts, he reminded himself that this was the career JD had chosen, and though he was young, Dunne had already spent two years patrolling the streets of Atlantic City before he'd moved to the FAA.

"I'll be back," Buck told the pilots and hurried downstairs to help with getting things organized and to check on the others.

He had to move out of the aisle to let Vin and Josiah pass by with another body, then he waited as they placed it beside the other two. "There's one hijacker upstairs and one victim," he informed them. "Can we keep her separated from them?"

"Bring her into first class and get these two out of here," Chris answered over the communication system.

"We can get the two bodies and then clear the passengers from first class," Josiah added.

"Let's do it." Vin was already in motion.

Chris knelt beside Nathan and opened a package of sterile gauze padding before handing it over. "How are you doing, Ezra?" he asked, remembering this time to ask Standish directly.

Ezra blinked once and breathed deeply, trying to concentrate on keeping his voice even. "As well as can be expected," he managed. He met Chris' concern filled gaze briefly before he closed his eyes tightly, not wanting Larabee to see any fear. It wasn't the first time Ezra had been shot, but somehow this instance didn't seem to compare to his cousin Beth's sadistic streak with a BB gun. He'd been in fights where he'd ended up beaten and even stabbed once; a flesh wound really, but this…this was his whole body screaming in agony, fighting against him for control. What terrified him most, was the fear that his tortured body might be winning the fight.

He felt a hand on his bent knee and a slight squeeze. "We need to get him up off the floor," Nathan pointed out when Vin, Buck and Josiah entered the cabin.

There wasn't a lot of room for the group of men trying to reach their friend, but each one was able to at least let Ezra know they were there. Chris moved out of the way and helped Buck wrap Taymullah up in a blanket, Buck casting nervous glances at JD who was standing quietly a the front of the cabin, leaning against the large view screen. Buck exchanged a look with Chris and then moved to stand next to his younger friend.

"JD? You okay?"

Dunne nodded; watching as Chris slung Taymullah over his shoulder and followed a Rashid-burdened Josiah out of first class.

"You did good," Buck said quietly.

"Tell that to Ezra," JD mumbled, glancing to where Nathan knelt.

Buck grasped JD's shoulder and turned the shorter man to face him. "There was nothing you could do to stop that from happening." Wilmington pointed toward Ezra. "But, you did take care of him, and," the index finger moved from pointing to poking JD's upper chest emphatically, "you took out Taymullah."

JD sighed and accepted the statement with a small nod, despite his obvious frustration.

"You gonna be okay until Nathan can check you out?" Buck asked.

"Yeah, I'm just banged up."

"Good, I need to get these folks cleared out of here so we have some room to breathe." Turning, Buck addressed the dumbstruck passengers. "Okay folks, as you can see we have a medical emergency here and in a moment we're going to ask you to move to a different section of the plane. Please be ready to go when the flight attendant comes to get you." As he finished, Chris reentered the cabin with the head flight attendant, Julie. Quickly Julie began to lead the passengers, two at a time, back to fill the seats left empty by Team 7 and the hijackers.

"I don't see why all of us have to move to an overcrowded section," Lance Rogers mumbled his complaint softly but JD heard it clearly and was in motion before Buck, Chris or Vin could figure out what was going on. His punch landed squarely on Rogers' jaw, resulting in an undignified yelp from the larger man and a cry of pain from JD as his ribs vehemently protested the action. Vin caught JD low around the waist and held him secure.

"JD?" Ezra struggled momentarily when JD cried out, but gasped and stilled under Nathan's strong hands.

"He's okay, Ezra, relax," Nathan tried to calm him and check to make sure the bleeding hadn't started again. He watched Ezra's jaw clench in agony and searched his case and the flight's med. kit a third time for any kind of painkiller. He'd been hoping that they might be able to find a doctor on board who'd be able to administer medication, but so far no one had stepped forward and he'd found nothing in the MedAir case that could be used for pain relief.

"What are you doing, kid?" Vin asked trying to settle JD who was still straining to reach Rogers. "You're upsetting Ezra," he whispered harshly.

Immediately Dunne stilled. Realizing that Chris and Buck were staring at him for an explanation he gestured at Rogers. "He's the asshole who got Ezra shot."

Rogers' eyes widened fearfully as several pairs of hostile eyes focused on him. He sank back in his seat and put his hands up in a placating gesture. "I did no such thing. I was just trying to diffuse the situation," he stuttered.

Chris just glared as Julie led another handful of passengers out. "You stay here," he pointed to a vacated seat away from Ezra, "there."

Rogers debated arguing and Josiah, who had returned and was standing just behind him, caught the hesitation. Grabbing him by the back of his collar, he pulled the defiant man to his feet, and gave him a firm push towards Chris. Larabee snagged Rogers by the arm as he staggered.

"Listen, I'm an NSA agent; I had every right to approach that man and try to handle the situation. I am trained after all." He tried to project confidence at the intimidating man holding onto him but he was surprised when instead of easing off, the taller man pushed him roughly into the seat. "It was Standish's own fault he got shot," Rogers tried a new tactic. "If he had a gun, why didn't he just take the guy out? If he'd done that in the first place, he wouldn't have had to shove the kid out of the way of that shot." He squealed in fright when Chris' hand shot out and tightly latched onto his throat.

"Standish didn't take the guy out," Chris hissed, "because he was following *my* orders not to." He tightened his grip slightly. "And he wouldn't have had to shove his friend and teammate out of the way if you had kept your ass in your seat." He thrust Rogers against the seat and stood to his full height. "You sit there and shut up until I can talk to you again without killing you."

Chris turned, aware suddenly of a conversation going on over his com system and Vin's touch on his arm. "We need you to help with Ezra," Tanner spoke evenly, not daring to let himself even look at Rogers. "We need to move him so they can get the seat reclined and we can get him up into it."

Chris realized then that first class was empty except for Team 7, Rogers and one injured woman who looked like she'd been beaten pretty badly. Two flight attendants had reclined a seat for the woman, and were now waiting to do the same for Ezra. Nathan was talking.

"We gotta get him out of this hole." He waved a hand between the seats. "It's gonna be hard to maneuver him up without hurting him more."

"Just pull me up," Ezra told him shortly.

"Ezra, we can't just go pushing and pulling, or dragging you around." Nathan tried to explain as Vin and Chris moved closer to help. "It'll start the bleeding up again and it's gonna hurt like hell."

"It already hurts like hell. Just do it, damn it," Ezra growled, his accent thickening as he opened his eyes and tried to push himself up off the floor.

Nathan, caught off guard by the sudden movement, lost his balance and fell back onto his butt, landing in the aisle.

"Shit," Vin jumped forward to grasp Ezra's forearm on his good side to steady him as Buck hurried to reach behind Ezra's shoulders and support as much of his weight as he could.

Nathan struggled to his feet so he could help. "Damn you, Ezra! You're a stubborn son of a bitch," he cursed, shaking his head in frustration.

Ezra managed a small groan in response. He felt an arm wrap around his waist and he was suddenly moving.

"Get that seat down fast," Nathan ordered the waiting flight attendants. It took less than a minute to get the seat adjusted and fully reclined. Carefully the three men eased Ezra down on to it. "I need blankets," Nathan said to no one in particular, knowing someone would get them.

"You okay, Ezra?" Jackson asked, reaching for more bandages and standing over Ezra to apply pressure to the renewed bleeding.

Ezra flinched, not trusting himself to be able to answer at the moment; instead he gave a small nod.

"You should have waited," Nathan went on. "We could have tried to move you easier than this."

"Nathan."

Jackson looked up at Buck holding a pile of blankets. "Put them under his knees, and save at least one to cover him up with."

Ezra groaned aloud when Buck gently eased the blankets under his legs, the latest movement jarring his wounds again.

Nathan watched closely when Ezra sighed deeply. The bleeding hadn't really started up again full force but he knew he needed to get another check on Ezra's vitals soon, and find out where they were and when they were going to land so he could get in touch with a doctor. Then there were JD's injuries and the lady passenger, not to mention the lump on Vin's head.

Ezra sighed again and tried to shift in the seat.

"Easy, Ezra. Don't move."

Ezra opened his eyes, surprised to hear Vin's voice so close. Then he realized he still gripped Tanner's forearm. Immediately he tried to pull away, embarrassed by his display of weakness. "My apologies, Mr. Tanner," he whispered as he let go, but Vin moved quickly to catch the flailing hand in his own.

"Shh, try to relax." Vin's grip tightened and instinctively Ezra clutched at the grasp like it was a lifeline. "Just hang on to me."

Ezra took another deep breath, exhaling noisily as a shiver ran through him. "Shit," he swore at his lack of control. The more he tried to contain his physical reactions, the worse job he seemed to be doing of it. He could only imagine what his mother would be saying if she was there, and suddenly he was very thankful that at least he'd been spared that indignity.

"Ever been shot before Ezra?" Vin asked, his voice low and calm.

"Do BB's count?" Ezra asked. His throat felt raw. "Need a drink," he said.

"Sorry, Ezra," Nathan apologized. "It looks like you might need surgery when we land."

"Who shot you with a BB gun?" Vin asked, distracting Ezra while Nathan checked his blood pressure and pulse again.

"My cousin, Beth." Ezra actually smiled faintly. "She was a wicked girl."

"Sounds it." Vin chuckled. Looking up he saw the concern in Nathan's eyes. "What do you need, Nathan?"

"To know when we're landing."

"I'm going up now," Chris said. "Buck, get JD a blanket or shirt or something and get him to sit down before he falls down."

"JD?" Ezra's voice cracked and he swallowed slowly. "Nathan, check on JD."

"He's okay, Ezra. He just needs to sit down a bit." Chris leaned over his agent. "You just concentrate on yourself right now, you hear me?"

Ezra grimaced but managed to nod.

"Don't worry, I'll look at him in a minute, Ezra," Nathan reassured.

Ezra blinked several times, overwhelmed with exhaustion as he struggled to stay awake.

"Let go, Ezra," Vin whispered near his ear. "Let it go. We'll take care of you," he promised.

Ezra's mind raced, screaming warnings at him to hang on and fight through the weariness and pain. It was difficult to catch a good breath and he desperately needed a drink. "Water, please," he whispered, forgetting that Nathan has said no earlier.

Nathan frowned. "Josiah?"

"I'm on it, Brother." Josiah headed for the galley.

"Ice chips," Jackson added. He knew he shouldn't give Ezra food or liquid with possible surgery coming in the near future but he could tell that Ezra was horribly thirsty and he didn't know how long it would be before they reached medical care. Absently he realized that he was still holding the blanket he'd meant to cover Ezra with. Carefully he shook out the folds, his eyes roaming over his teammate. He'd gotten the bleeding stopped again, which was a huge relief, but the deep breathing was worrying him. Eyeing the oxygen in the MedAir kit, Nathan debated only a minute before reaching for it. He scanned the directions quickly, and then adjusted the settings and reached to put the facemask on Ezra.

"W-what are you doing?" Ezra asked, the confusion evident in his voice as he pushed Nathan's hand away.

Nathan paused and held the mask up so that Ezra could see it. "I'm giving you some oxygen," he explained. He saw the fear flash in Ezra's eyes and quickly reassured him. "It's just to ease your breathing some, that's all."

Ezra nodded and closed his eyes again, tensing as he waited. Nathan hurriedly adjusted the mask, trying to secure it over Ezra's nose and mouth. It took a minute but finally the southerner's posture relaxed.

Ezra fought his instinct to rip the mask off of his face and throw it at Nathan. What did Jackson know about what he needed anyway? And how did they honestly expect him to trust them? He barely knew them. His heart felt like it was racing as his anxiety increased. God, he was at their mercy. He couldn't even breathe right on his own, and he was reduced to being unable to care for himself anymore. Unconsciously his grip on Tanner's hand tightened.

"Let it go, Ez." Vin leaned closer. "You can trust us." Ezra's eyes popped open, searching Vin's face for clues of deception. Vin grinned, seeing the doubt in Standish's expression. "Believe me, Ezra. We're not going to let you down, not this team, not me." Tanner waited, hoping that Ezra would accept him at his word. He saw the reluctant acceptance in Ezra's eyes right before they closed.

Nathan patted Vin on the back. "He might sleep some, when Josiah comes back, let him have an ice chip, just enough to wet his mouth. I need to check on the others."

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

JD looked up as Nathan approached him. "I'm fine," he insisted before Jackson could even ask. "How's Ezra?"

"He's hanging in there. Let me check those ribs."

"They're okay." JD sat forward and slipped the blanket Buck had gotten him off his shoulders. Buck had gone upstairs to get the computer and back up equipment.

Nathan made a sound similar to a snort as he assessed the bruising. "What happened?"

"Taymullah flipped me and I bounced off that thing." JD motioned to the low partition.

"That was after they tossed you down the stairs?"

"They didn't toss me," JD protested. "I just missed a step."

"Uh huh." Nathan tilted Dunne's head up to look at his neck. "Throat hurt at all?"

"A little, not bad though."

Nathan's fingers skated across the reddened skin and then moved up to the cut above JD's eye. It was taped already. "Josiah or Buck?" he asked.

JD grinned. "Josiah…and Buck; you'd think between the two of them they'd know how to put on a band-aid."

"Heard that." Buck sounded through the communication unit right before he reentered the cabin. "Got all your toys." He winked, holding up the computer.

"Yeah right." Dunne rolled his eyes and flinched as Nathan examined the bruising on his temple. "I think he tried to shove it through my skull," he muttered.

Nathan smiled. "You dizzy at all?"

"Not much."

"Alright, sit there and relax. You're banged up good, but I think you avoided breaking those." He gestured toward JD's ribs. "We'll get you x-rayed when we land."

"We're going to Cork, Nathan," Chris filled in from upstairs.

"Ireland?" Nathan questioned.

"Affirmative." Upstairs in the cockpit, Chris sat in the empty seat behind the pilot as he waited for more information from Captain Barnes.

"How long, Chris?" Nathan asked.

"Estimated arrival in thirty minutes. Ezra going to be okay?" Chris leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knees.

"He's pretty shocky," Nathan answered. "So far so good, but any delays and we're starting to really push it."

Chris ran his long fingers through his hair and sat up straight again. He watched as the pilot and co-pilot interacted, each man doing his own tasks and yet working together as one unit. If Travis had wanted to test Team 7's ability to do the same, he'd certainly picked the right flight to assign them to, Chris thought. If it hadn't been for that NSA agent, they might have gotten through this whole incident with only scrapes and bruises. Though that wasn't a guarantee, he was furious the more he thought of Rogers. He wanted to pound the man for endangering JD and Ezra the way he had.

"Agent Larabee?"

Chris looked at the Captain. "Yes, Sir?"

"Emergency crews will be waiting for us on the ground. We're trying to get in touch with someone in Emergency at Mercy hospital so we can let them know what's coming their way."

"I'll need the number as soon as you have it. Nathan can call him on our NavTalk."

He only had to wait a couple of moments before the Captain was turning to him again. Chris pulled a mini notebook from his jacket pocket and unclipped the pen from the spiral binding. He repeated the number once to double check and then informed the pilots that he'd be downstairs if they needed him.

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Nathan carefully applied a butterfly bandage to the woman passenger's cheek, trying to soothe her as he took care of her. She had been lucid enough to communicate when the flight attendants had first brought her forward, but now, as she faded in and out of consciousness, she merely whimpered occasionally.

"You're doing a good job here, Nathan." Josiah smiled when Nathan looked up from his task with surprise. "I know it's all coming at you at once, wanted you to know you're handling it well." He gave a small sheepish shrug when Buck looked over at the two of them and grinned.

The remaining corrugated doors leading to the business section suddenly opened and the flight attendant, Julie entered. She stopped short at the expressions that greeted her.

"You should probably give us a warning knock before you come in," Josiah explained as he casually tucked his weapon back into its holster and saw Vin doing the same.

Julie had the decency to look embarrassed instead of offended. "I should have known." She nodded. "I need someone's help," she explained.

"What's the problem?" Chris' sudden presence startled her. He caught her by the elbow as she jumped away from him, losing her balance slightly.

"Sorry."

"No problem, I'm just a little jumpy." She paused to catch her breath. "I have a young girl who is quite upset. I believe Ms. Lewis is her mother." Julie's voice trailed off as she looked down at the injured woman.

"I'll come talk to her." Josiah moved forward. "Do you want me to bring her in here?" he asked Chris.

"Already crowded." Chris scanned the area. Vin knelt in the aisle beside Ezra, at the front of the cabin. Two rows behind them, Nathan worked on Ms. Lewis, while everyone else was on the other side of the cabin. "Bring her in for awhile, but take her back to her own seat for landing," he ordered. "Buck, do a walk through. Nathan, here's the number for the ER where Ezra will be transferred." He handed the notebook to Jackson. "JD will get you the phone."

Buck stood and flicked JD lightly behind the ear, then moved over to Vin and Ezra. He nodded to Vin and watched as Ezra's eyes wearily followed him. "Hey," he smiled, suddenly lost as to what to say. "How're you doing, partner?" Ezra's reply was muffled by the oxygen mask, so Buck just patted his knee. "I need to do a walk through, but I'll be right back so you hang in there." Quickly he moved toward the back of the cabin, his eyes meeting Chris' for just a moment before he stepped into the business section. A shiver ran through him, his thoughts thrown back in time for a second, when he recognized the look in his friend's eyes. Resolutely, Buck pushed that nightmare into the background and focused on the job at hand.

A walk through would give them a visual on how the passengers and flight crew were doing during this initial aftermath and make sure no one else was causing trouble. Buck put on what he hoped was a serious and not too intimidating expression as he made his way down the narrow aisle of the plane. Most passengers were talking quietly, voices hushed and eyes wide with shock. A few were crying and a few others seemed completely unaffected by the earlier events.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Thank you for your continued patience as we get things cleared up." Captain Barnes' voice came over the intercom system. "We're being rerouted to Cork, Ireland where, once the injured have been taken care of, we will have you disembark from the aircraft by rows. There will be officials waiting at the airport to assist you, and direct you as to where to go and what will be happening next. We should be landing in Cork in approximately 20 minutes."

Buck watched the varied reactions of the passengers closest to him as he made his way to the back of the plane. Several people stopped him to ask questions about what would be happening after they landed, but he quickly reassured them that they would be well taken care of by those waiting for them.

At the back of the plane he turned around and started up the opposite aisle. Over his earpiece he could hear Josiah explaining to the little girl, whose name happened to be Jenny, that her mother was going to be fine and soon they would go to the hospital where some doctors and nurses would look after both of them.

Nathan's voice cut through sharply with a small curse. "Damn it, what good is this phone anyway?"

Buck frowned. Must be Jackson was having trouble getting through to the hospital in Cork. He could hear Vin murmuring to Ezra and hoped that Nathan remembered that Ezra could still hear everything he said.

Suddenly, Buck realized he was almost to his original seat, and there stood Korine. She waited, arms crossed in front of her, standing just far enough into the aisle to block his path. "So are you going to tell me who you actually are now?" She asked in a low voice. She motioned for him to sit down but he shook his head no.

"Told you." He couldn't help but grin. "I'm Buck."

Korine huffed and gave her hair a flip behind her shoulder. "Well, you sure as hell aren't a video game developer. What'd the pilot call you? A federal agent of some sort?"

"Of a sort, yeah."

"And what exactly does that mean?" Korine's dark eyes narrowed.

Buck sighed. "I'm a Federal Air Marshal."

"And," Korine motioned for him to continue.

"And…basically I'm a professional airline passenger."

"Come on! This is what you do? Really? You fly around and occasionally save a flight from a takeover by raving militant lunatics…by shooting them dead, no less?"

He thought a moment. "Well, when you put it that way…yeah." He suppressed the urge to laugh at her stunned expression, instead putting his hands on her shoulders and gently steering her out of the aisle as he whispered. "You should really stay in your seat, darling."

"Wait!" Korine grabbed his sleeve as he started down the aisle again. "I want a story."

Buck shook his head. "Sorry, Korine. If I could give you a story, I would, but it ain't gonna happen. Go enjoy your pyramids." Pulling away, he moved up the aisle, ignoring her frustrated sigh as she flopped back down in her seat.

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Nathan paced the tiny cabin anxiously. Two steps one direction, spin and two steps the other way. Back and forth while he waited impatiently to reach the hospital. He'd tried the number Chris had given him twice already just to not get a signal through with the GPS phone.

"Damn it," he swore again and spun around again in time to see Ezra jerk awake.

"Easy," Vin spoke immediately, attempting to settle Standish as he groaned and tried to reach for the oxygen mask. "Leave it on, Ez." Tanner caught the grasping hand and set it back on Ezra's chest, his grip still strong on the other hand.

"Coming in," Buck warned right before he entered the cabin. "They're okay back there," he told Chris.

"Nice job with the reporter," JD told him.

"Hello, this is Nathan Jackson on board flight 1412, who am I speaking with?" Nathan's greeting had all five agents turning to look at him. "Yes sir, Dr. McIntyre, this is what I have," Nathan spoke rapidly spilling details to the doctor about Ezra's condition.

Chris moved forward and squatted beside JD's seat. "Go ahead and turn the wires off. We're all in here and Nathan doesn't need our chit chat distracting him while he fills in the doc."

JD nodded and quickly keyed the right commands into the computer. Within seconds, each agent felt the soft deadening of sound as his earpiece turned off.

Nathan barely caught the change as he rattled off Ezra's vitals, the location of the wounds and his observations about them. Carefully he described what he had already done to care for Standish and listened as the doctor affirmed that they'd be ready for Ezra and the others at the hospital.

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Ezra wanted to scream with frustration. The pain in his side was intense and he wanted the world to fade away so that he would feel nothing. His heart was racing and he fought to suppress a groan as a shiver shook his body. Couldn't anyone tell that he was freezing? And God, if he could just have a drink, he needed a drink. The ice chip Josiah had spooned into his mouth earlier had done nothing to quench his thirst.

Blinking his watery eyes, he strained to hear what was going on around him. The constant buzz of voices had been his anchor so far, keeping him aware of what was happening around him and now…it hit him then; he couldn't hear anyone. The voices were gone. Was he alone? Panicking he struggled as his breathing quickened. The pain sharpening as he began to move around. He had to get up, to see what was going on. Where was his team? The oxygen mask felt heavy and he tried to reach for it, needing to be free of its claustrophobic presence. He needed to move; if he just laid here he would die. He didn't want to die. He needed to move.

Vin sat with his head leaning back against the side of Ezra's seat. He was tired, and he was worried about Ezra. The Southerner had been drifting in and out of sleep but seemed to be growing more restless. He knew that they would be landing soon, and though Nathan seemed confidant that Ezra was going to be fine, Vin could read the underlying worry in the medic's dark eyes.

He watched, as Nathan talked to the doctor, no longer able to listen in on the conversation. Suddenly his hand jerked and he turned to see what Ezra needed only to realize the man was mumbling and trying to sit up. "Ezra, what the hell are you doing?" Vin pushed at him gently trying to settle Standish back down like he'd been doing so far but Ezra pushed back with more strength than Vin would have thought him capable of. Ezra let go of his hand then and reached for the oxygen mask, pulling it off and tossing the contraption aside. "Ezra you need that. Come on relax and lay still." Vin tried again but Ezra only pushed harder, seemingly oblivious to the pain.

"I need to get up," he said.

"No, now lay still. You're gonna hurt yourself more."

Ezra shook his head, his green eyes full of confusion.

"I need some help here!" Vin raised his voice as Ezra pushed him away again.

"Damn!" Buck and Chris were there in a second.

"Ezra, stop," Chris commanded, taking hold of his shoulders while Vin stilled his legs and Buck attempted to get the oxygen back in place.

"Easy with him," Nathan called over Chris' shoulder, and then quickly relayed what was happening to the doctor. "Don't hold him down, he'll just struggle more and start that bleeding up again. He can't go far, just be there to catch him and get that oxygen back on him, ASAP."

But Ezra continued to struggle even as the men holding him began to back off. He cried out as he tried to kick out at Vin, and sank back onto the seat as the pain ripped through him.

The hands pressing him down had spurred his memory. Masked men, holding him while another landed sharp consecutive hits to his midsection. "No!" He pressed away from the blows but met only resistance. Their words, cursed and threatened, reminding him again and again that he was no longer worth defending or even tolerating. "No, get away," he cried out again.

Josiah moved forward as Ezra began to cry out and nudged Buck out of the way. Kneeling beside the seat as Ezra struggled he reached up and gently grasped Ezra's head in his hands. "Ezra!" he said sharply. "Listen to me."

Ezra stilled at the command, his breath coming in rapid gasps, as his eyes darted wildly from man to man.

"Listen to my voice, Ezra. It's Josiah. You're okay. Do you hear me? You're okay. Look at me." Josiah's voice softened as he spoke. He could feel Ezra's body relaxing beneath his hands. "Come on Brother, look at me." Finally Ezra's watery green eyes locked with his. "You're going to be okay," Josiah told him. "Do you understand me?"

Ezra blinked rapidly and searched Sanchez's face, recognition slowly appearing in his expression.

"I'm going to let go now, and you are going to let Buck put the oxygen back on you, you understand?"

Ezra managed a small nod.

"Alright then. You're going to be okay, Ezra. You understand?" Josiah asked one more time.

"Y-yes." Ezra managed between his gasps.

"Good. Now lay still and let Nathan take care of you. Don't scare us like this again." Josiah smiled gently and patted Ezra's cheek as he released him. Quickly Buck slipped the oxygen mask back on as Vin and Chris stepped further out of the way.

Nathan advanced quickly to check on the bleeding and his vitals. Cursing, Jackson informed the doctor that the bleeding had started up again but he thought he could get it back under control without a problem. "We should be landing in a few minutes, how long will it take to get him to the hospital?" Nathan asked as he pointed for Buck to hand him more dressings from the first aid kit. "Okay, right. I'll see you soon after then." Nathan hit disconnect and tossed the phone to Vin so that he had both hands free to work with.

Chris watched as Ezra continued to relax, his face contorted with pain and his muscles tense with his effort to control his reactions. Shaking his head and backing further out of Nathan's way, he turned and caught Rogers' intense gaze. His anger swelled and he moved fluidly towards the NSA agent, enjoying the fact that Rogers was visibly uncomfortable with his attention. He noticed that Vin had followed him. Chris stopped at the seat in front of Rogers' and leaned against it, his countenance deceptively casual.

"Is he going to be okay?" Rogers asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"Does that actually matter to you?" Vin asked as he unconsciously copied Larabee's stance across the aisle.

"Well it's not like I wanted the man dead or anything," Rogers snapped.

Chris growled. "Could have fooled me."

"Look, I never intended for anyone to get shot. I was just trying to help," Rogers looked from man to man, his posture relaxing when he realized they really weren't going to touch him. "So you really hired Standish on as one of your sky marshals did you?"

Chris frowned and looked at Vin. "Did he just call us sky marshals?"

"I think he did." Turning to Rogers, Vin grinned. "He really hates that name, you know."

"Jeez, you gents are touchy." Rogers ran a hand through his hair. "The program used to be called Sky Marshals didn't it?"

"Used to being the key phrase there. It is Rogers isn't it?" Chris asked.

"Yes, Lance Rogers."

"Well Lance Rogers, yes, Ezra is a part of this team of Federal Air Marshals. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Just don't see how you can trust the man." Rogers said flippantly.

Vin shook his head wondering how one man could be so stupid. "Take one step forward and three steps back," he muttered under his breath.

Chris leaned forward menacingly. "I can trust him because he is trustworthy," he whispered.

"Yeah but you've got to have read his file," Rogers pointed out.

"I said, he's trustworthy," Chris continued. "He is worthy of my trust."

Vin pushed himself up straight and stepped forward, "Judging a man on rumor don't prove anything," he hissed. "You'd do good to remember that before you screw the NSA's next fall guy over as easily as you did Standish."

"What's his problem?" Rogers asked as Tanner marched away angrily.

"That would be…you," Chris pointed.

"Ladies and Gentleman, We are now approaching Cork International airport. I ask that you return to your seats and put your seatbelts on. Please remember to remain seated until instructed. We'll have you disembarked as soon as possible." Chris recognized the speaking voice as that of co-pilot Reese.

"You heard the man," he told Rogers. "Go find a seat in economy or business."

"Why?" Rogers looked startled.

"Because I don't want you coming near any of my team again, and that little girl over there is going to stay with her mother. So get out."

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Nathan held his breath as the plane bumped against the ground. He heard the moan from Ezra and knew that even the smooth landing was torture for the injured man. Jackson was thankful to be on the ground again. Ezra's earlier outburst had frightened him more than he was willing to admit. He'd been so afraid that they weren't going to be able to get Standish calmed down and then Josiah had stepped in and taken control. Amazingly enough the older man had been able to break through whatever fog Ezra had been in, and Sanchez still hadn't moved from Ezra's side.

As soon as the aircraft had decelerated enough for Nathan to stand up without falling over, he was out of his seat. "Ezra?" he leaned over Standish, checking his pulse again. "We're here. I bet you always wanted to see Ireland, huh?" Nathan smiled as Ezra's eyes focused on him. "Actually, knowing you, you've probably already been here, haven't ya?" He was rewarded with a weak smile and he patted Standish's leg as he continued. "We'll get you off this tube first thing, okay? I want you to cooperate with the paramedics, do you hear me?"

Josiah grinned and looked up at him. "You think he's capable?"

"God, I hope so or we'll end up in the middle of another international incident."

Suddenly the room exploded in activity as Julie ushered a group of paramedics into the cabin. Nathan and Josiah were pushed out of the way as one man moved to assess Ezra's vitals while another popped open a box and started preparing an IV, all the while talking softly to Ezra. A third man looked at Nathan. "You've been working on him?" His accent was thick, but Nathan could understand him well enough and began to fill them in.

Two other emergency workers were taking care of Ms. Lewis and her daughter, and already helping her to her feet. The rest of Team 7 stood clustered together on the other side of the cabin, watching the strangers take care of their teammate.

"How are they going to get him out of here?" JD asked in a low whisper, but everyone was too focused on what was happening to answer.

They waited, forced to stand back and watch as Ezra was first stabilized and then awkwardly loaded onto a narrow backboard. Their offers to help were pushed aside as two of the medics lifted the burdened board high enough to squeeze through the aisle. They followed.

Out side the breeze was light and fresh, making them realize exactly how stuffy it had been in the plane. Ezra was placed, board and all on a stretcher then and wheeled toward the nearest ambulance. Chris jogged a few steps to catch up to the stretcher right before they loaded Ezra.

"I'm sorry sir, if you want to come along you'll have to ride up front," One man explained apologetically.

"Just let me talk to him a sec," Chris insisted, already pushing past.

"Ezra, they're going to take you to the hospital and get you patched up. We've got to clean up here but we'll be there as soon as possible, you understand?"

Ezra nodded wearily.

"We will be there." Chris grabbed his hand and squeezed before stepping back and out of the way. "We'll be there," he repeated again as the doors closed and the siren blasted around him. He waited until the ambulance was out of sight before allowing himself to turn back to the plane. The quicker they could hand control over to the Irish authorities, the quicker they could get to the hospital to be there for Ezra.

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"So, how is he doing really?"

Chris glanced at his commanding officer, raising one eyebrow and shrugging. Travis had flown into Cork the day after the hijacking attempt to help wrap up the jurisdictional mess and play peacemaker as the case was eased into the FBI's hands.

"He doesn't tell me anything more than he does you," Chris pointed out as he followed Orrin's gaze across the busy terminal.

Standish sat, comfortably ensconced in one of the airport's courtesy wheelchairs while Nathan hovered nearby. The southerner had balked adamantly when Jackson had insisted on the chair. "I was released with a good bill of health, sir. I am not an invalid."

"No, but you're suppose to be taking it easy, and walking from here to kingdom come is not doing that!" Nathan had argued right back. "Besides that, if we let you walk, we'll end up missing our damned flight." The smile had come out of nowhere and obviously had caught Ezra off guard as he geared up for a retort, because he'd stopped suddenly, confused for just a moment. Then he'd flashed a somewhat sheepish smile, the only admittance to the truth of Jackson's tease, and settled obediently into the wheelchair.

Larabee watched his agent now, hands easily manipulating a deck of playing cards. Other than the wheelchair, only the man's pale complexion and occasional wince betrayed his injury at all.

"He does seem okay," Travis commented, answering his own question.

Chris nodded, unable to voice his own relief in hearing the simple statement. He could still feel his intense fear and worry as he'd stood watching the ambulance speed off with Ezra inside. Chris had wanted to go with him, to make sure that Standish was really going to be all right, but his responsibilities had tied him to the plane.

Team 7's jurisdiction had ended as soon as the door of the plane had been opened, but it had taken time to clear up what happened and transfer control of the scene to the local authorities. When they'd finally arrived at the hospital, two hours had passed, but they still found themselves in a modestly decorated waiting room with nothing to do but pace and drink bitter coffee as they waited for an update on their teammate.

When Dr. Sean McIntyre had entered the room he'd smiled and with his soft lilting accent had quickly assured them that Ezra was going to be fine. The bullet had hit no vital organs; it had just torn through muscle.

Chris ran a hand over his face and stifled a yawn. It had been a long, busy week. The flight had been on Tuesday, Travis had arrived on Wednesday and then Standish had been transferred to an American affiliated hospital on Thursday. After that things had calmed down only slightly as they'd spent most of their time either at the hospital with Ezra or debriefing with authorities and various intelligence agencies.

Ezra had worked, despite Nathan's protests, from his hospital bed, calling in reports from several embassies. The Husam Al Din was not claiming responsibility for the failed attempt at forcing Imran El Farren's release, but El Farren was spouting off from his prison cell, calling on the Sword of Faith to avenge the slaughter of their innocent Brothers.

The international media had been left with enough information to fill only about a thirty second slot on their evening news shows. "Definitely not the job for fame or glory," Buck had playfully muttered after viewing one such report, featuring Korine of all people. "I told her to let it go," he added, thankful that she had left out names.

There hadn't been a lot of time for sightseeing around Cork, but they had managed to hunt down a couple of popular pubs. JD had felt bad at first, for leaving Ezra behind in his hospital room but the hospital staff had been strict about visiting hours and Standish had seemed to understand.

"Larabee?" Chris turned realizing that Travis was talking to him again. "Where is the rest of your team? The plane should be ready for take off soon."

"They're around." Chris grinned. "Josiah and Vin went to find something to drink and Buck and JD are off checking out the shops."

"How are JD and Vin doing?" Orrin asked. He knew that both agents had been banged up a bit on the flight.

"Fine. Nathan forced both of them to see a doctor while we were waiting for news on Ezra's condition. No broken bones or concussions with either of them."

"Good, good. I'm going to call the crew and see when we can board." Travis moved off to the side of the room as he flipped open his cell phone.

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Ezra smiled absently as he thumbed his new deck of cards. A gift from JD, Standish couldn't bring himself to mind the tacky bright green deck, emblazoned with four leaf clovers and 'Luck of the Irish, Cork Ireland'. He shuffled the stiff cards with ease and glanced up and around the terminal.

Nathan sat in the row across from him reading a medical thriller he'd picked up at the airport's bookstore. Chris and CO Travis stood at the edge of the waiting area, Travis talking on a cell phone. Ezra observed the two men carefully, unsure of what to think about either of them. He respected them both, immensely and it had genuinely shocked him on Wednesday when Travis had walked into his hospital room and asked him how he was feeling. Lots of things seemed to be surprising him this week.

He really didn't remember all of what happened after he'd been shot, well, at least not that he'd admit to anyone else. He remembered the pain, and the growing fear of losing control. He remembered JD and Nathan taking care of him and then the near constant presence of Vin and later of Josiah. He'd told both Nathan and the doctor that he couldn't remember any of what happened right before they landed, but when he'd tried to recall what happened, he had remembered the flashback.

The attack had happened in the parking garage at work back when he was still with the NSA. Four masked men. He'd never tried to physically prove their identities; he'd recognized their voices. He knew them. They had been members of his division, teammates essentially. He'd informed the medical staff at the emergency room that it had been an attempted mugging, filled his prescription painkillers and gone home wondering if he'd ever find another job where he could use his training. That had been about one year and three months before flight 1412, and he'd thought that he'd successfully managed to bury those memories.

Ezra tensed slightly with the memory and his side pulled, causing him to hiss softly.

"You alright, Ezra?" Nathan asked, his brown eyes larger with concern.

Ezra smiled and nodded. "I'm fine, Mr. Jackson. I just moved unwisely."

Nathan paused as if trying to decipher if Ezra was telling him the truth or not, before finally conceding. "Okay then, but you let me know if you need anything."

"Rest assured, you'll be the first to know, Nathan." The familiar first name of his colleague felt awkward on his tongue but the others continually harangued him about not using their first names. He'd fought it for three months, not wanting to open himself up to that kind of closeness, but the last week had destroyed a good portion of his defenses, a realization that he wasn't completely at ease with.

He wasn't sure he was ready to trust these men fully, and yet he'd been forced to all week long. Regardless of their differences, they had been there for him, from the moment he'd been shot to the moment he'd awakened in the hospital to find Chris pacing his room. "Told you we'd be here." Chris had smiled at Ezra's obvious confusion. Ezra actually feared the fact that the precarious walls they had stacked amongst themselves for protection had been virtually blown out of the water on this mission. He wasn't sure he wanted these men to truly get to know him, for once they did…they might react like everyone else in his life seemed to, they'd bail on him.

"Here Ez, brought you one of them fancy mineral waters you like so much." Ezra looked up as Vin held out the bottled beverage. He hadn't even heard Josiah and Vin approach.

"Thank you, Mr. Tanner." He tucked JD's cards into the breast pocket of his designer shirt and accepted the drink.

"Yeah, he remembered Nathan's no caffeine rule." Josiah chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink.

Ezra rolled his eyes dramatically. "It was just a flesh wound," he insisted.

Nathan choked and spluttered on the sip of water he'd just swallowed, causing the others to laugh, Ezra holding his side and rethinking the concept of sarcasm for awhile.

"What's so funny?" JD asked as he and Buck joined the group. Buck immediately pounding on Nathan's back as the medic continued to cough and gasp.

"Ezra's flesh wound," Josiah answered.

Buck grinned and shook his head. "Hell of a nick there, Ezra."

"I aim to be the best in all things." Ezra smiled innocently as the others laughed again.

"Are you boys ready to go home?" The group turned as Orrin and Chris approached.

"Sure are!" JD nodded emphatically in response to Travis' inquiry.

"Plane is on the tarmac. They're almost ready, said we can head out now."

Josiah picked up his carry on and Ezra's while Vin grabbed Standish's brief case. The doctor's 'no lifting anything' order was still ringing in their ears from his lecture before Ezra's discharge earlier that morning.

Kicking up the footrests on the wheelchair, Ezra slowly eased himself out of the contraption.

"What the hell are you doing?" Nathan asked sharply, causing everyone to freeze momentarily.

"I will walk to the airplane, Mr. Jackson." Ezra's voice was even but his eyes flashed.

"Let's go then." Chris cut in before Nathan could protest again. He could see the stubborn set of Ezra's jaw and the stiff, unyielding posture. Standish would not be swayed from this decision.

Travis hung back to walk with Larabee as Josiah pushed open the door leading outside. The group moved together, someone always suspiciously close to Ezra in case they were needed. Standish, for his part, walked smoothly, with no sign of pain of struggling. His gait remained even, if slightly slower than normal.

"You certainly have your hands full, don't you?" Travis asked Chris quietly.

Chris just smiled. "You could say that, I guess."

"You guys make a good team."

"Yeah well, it's a start." Chris nodded.

Travis paused and turned to Larabee. "You know that back home, Team 4 had already dubbed you guys 'the magnificent seven'?" He chuckled at Chris' groan.

"You're kidding."

Travis shook his head, "No, not at all." He paused a moment before growing more contemplative. "On the plane, did you really have to use deadly force and kill them all?"

Chris looked at Travis, trying to gauge if the older man was serious or not. "Hell yeah. They'd already killed one girl, beat another lady unconscious and shot Ezra. You know that if it wasn't for him JD would be dead, not to mention the fact that he even took one out after he was down." He ran his hand roughly over his face, reigning in his emotions. "Look Sir, you just can't fuck around up there. I did what had to be done, no second guessing."

Orrin held up both hands in surrender. "I know, I know. I'm not questioning your judgment." He smiled tightly. "I'm just letting you know that the reputation is probably going to stick."

"Fair enough." Chris started to move again but Travis caught his arm.

"Thank you for not killing Lance Rogers."

Chris shrugged, "He wasn't worth it." Larabee started walking again, then slipped into a casual jog to catch up with his team.

Travis stood back and took in the scene as they waited for the flight crew to stabilize the steps against the side of the small FAA jet he'd used to get to Cork. The sun was just slipping behind the jet; its rays reflecting brilliantly off the exterior. Backlit, seven men stood, ready to support each other and to defend one another, side by side and truly together as a team.

Orrin smiled proudly to himself. Team 7 had definitely passed this test of working together. Not only were they an effective team, he had no doubt now that they were also his best. As he began to walk forward he laughed softly. "Hell of a team you put together there, Travis, a damn fine team."

The end!

hope you liked it!


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